" — 
Wtmmmmmammmma 


VISION 
HOUSE 

By 

|  C.N. and  A.M. 

WILLIAMSON 


. 


VISION  HOUSE 


By  C.  N.  &  A.  M.  WILLIAMSON 


Author  of 

"The  Lion's  Mouse/'  "The  Second  Latchkey," 
"Everyman's  Land"  etc. 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY      , 

Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  arrangement  with  George  H.  Doran  Company 


COPYRIGHT,    1921, 
BT    GEORGE    H.    DORAN    COMPANY 


PRINTED    IN    THE     UNITED    STATES     OF    AMERICA 


TO 

THE   GRAND   CANYON 

AND   ARIZONA 


u 

1/ 

I 

y 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I  Enter  Miss  Sorel     . 

II  Exit  the  Blighter    . 

III  A  Cabin  Window 

IV  Reprisals — Et  Cetera 
V  Anonymous 

VI  On  Sunday  at  Three 

VII  Samson  Agonistes 

VIII  What  the  Star  Said 

IX  Something  Out  of  Ancient  Rome 

X  The  Thing  She  Could  Not  Explain 

XI  Every  Man  Has  His  Price 

XII  "Have  Your  Cake  and  Eat  It,  Too  !' 

XIII  "Can  You  Keep  a  Secret?" 

XIV  Marise  Puts  on  Black    . 
XV  The  Church  Door    . 

XVI  For  Better,  for  Worse    . 

XVII  The   Speaking-Tube 

XVIII  Au   Revoir — Till  Sometime! 

XIX  Why  the  Bargain  Was  Off 

XX  The  Bridal  Suite     . 

vii 


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24 

31 
36 

44 

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61 

75 
88 

95 
109 
117 
122 
129 
136 

142 
149 
158 
166 

174 


viii  CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XXI  Keeping  Up  Appearances         .        .182 

XXII  A  Shock  and  a  Snub  or  Two    .        .187 

XXIII  The  Dream 192 

XXIV  According  to  Mums         .        .        .199 
XXV  "Some  Day— Some  Way— Somehow!"    207 

XXVI  The  End  of  the  Journey        .        .    212 

XXVII  Second  Fiddle    .        .        •        •        •    219 

XXVIII  Mothereen         .        .        4        .        .    224 

XXIX  The  White  Dove     ....    232 

XXX  The  Vigil  Light       s        .        .        .    241 

XXXI  The  Album        .        .        s        .        .    249 

XXXII  The  Bereaved  One    1        .        *        .    257 

XXXIII  The  Visitors'  Book  .:            262 

XXXIV  The  Terrace     .        .        g        ,        .    270 
XXXV  Straight  Talk           .        .        §        g    277 

XXXVI  Stumbling  in  the  Dark   .        .        .    284 

XXXVII  Zelie  Gets  Even       ....    290 

XXXVIII  When     Severance    Threw     Down 

the  Key       .        .        .        ,        .    296 

r 


VISION    HOUSE 


VISION   HOUSE 


CHAPTER  I 

ENTER  MISS  SOREL 

IT  was  the  third  day  out  from  Liverpool  on  the  way 
to  New  York,  and  people  were  just  beginning  to 
take  an  interest  in  each  other's  names  and  looks. 

The  passenger  list  of  the  Britannia  was  posted  up 
close  to  the  lift  on  B  deck,  but  the  weather  had  not  en- 
couraged curious  groups  to  study  and  inwardly  digest 
its  items.  In  fact,  digestion  of  all  sorts  had  been  diffi- 
cult. To-day,  however,  the  huge  ship  had  ceased  to 
step  on  and  stumble  over  monster  waves,  and  had 
slipped  into  a  sea  of  silken  blue.  Bad  sailors  and  lazy 
ones  were  on  deck  staring  at  their  fellows  as  at  un- 
earthly creatures  who  had  dropped  on  board  since  the 
vessel  sailed,  miraculously  like  manna  from  heaven. 
The  news  had  flown  round,  as  news  flies  in  an  Eastern 
bazaar,  that  there  were  three  names  of  conspicuous  in- 
terest on  the  hitherto  neglected  list,  and  that  now  was 
the  moment  for  "spotting"  their  owners. 

Two  of  these  should  be  easy  to  find,  for  their  steamer 
chairs,  plainly  labelled,  stood  side  by  side  on  A  deck, 
where  everyone  sat  or  was  supposed  to  sit.  The  sea  dogs 
and  dogesses  who  braved  all  weathers  had  nosed  out 
those  labels,  but  had  so  far  watched  in  vain  for  the 

11 


12  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

ciiairs  to  b*?  occupied.  They  had  observed,  also,  that 
corresponding'  places  at  the  captain's  table  were  vacant. 
4PW9  were  since  chairs  together  on  deck,  and  in  the 
dining-saloon,  but  the  third  did  not  count  with  the 
public.  It  was  that  of  a  mere  chaperon — The  Girl's 
mother.  She  was  not  the  third  of  the  Three  Thrilling 
Passengers.  That  person  happened  to  be  a  man,  and 
he  had  neither  chair  nor  label.  If  he  had  eaten  a  meal 
outside  his  cabin  he  had  somehow  passed  unrecognised. 

The  stewards,  questioned,  said  that  John  Garth  had 
not  applied  for  a  seat  at  table.  Yes,  certainly,  one  had 
been  assigned  to  him,  next  Mrs.  Sorel,  she  being  in  the 
place  of  honour  on  the  right  of  the  Britannia 's  captain. 
In  this  position  Garth  would  have  faced  Lord  Sever- 
ance, and  sat  diagonally  opposite  Miss  Sorel,  who  was 
on  the  captain's  left.  But  the  favoured  man  had  ig^ 
nored  his  privilege.  It  was  understood  that  he  preferred 
snatching  vague  sandwiches  and  glasses  of  beer  at 
odd  hours  in  the  smoking-room,  or  on  deck;  therefore 
it  would  be  hard  to  identify  him.  Meanwhile,  however, 
celebrity  seekers  gathered  near  those  three  chairs  on 
the  sunny  port  side  of  A  deck. 

By  ten  o'clock  the  crowd  had  thickened;  but  it  was 
not  till  close  on  eleven  that  a  tall  figure  in  uniform, 
preceded  by  a  steward  with  rugs,  sat  down  in  the  chair 
ticketed  "Major  the  Earl  of  Severance." 

Many  Americans  were  on  board,  homeward  bound 
after  months  of  Red  Cross  and  other  war  work,  and 
they  knew  in  their  hearts,  no  doubt,  that  titles,  once 
valuied  by  snobs,  were  absolutely  out-of-date  in  this 
newly-democratised  world.  Nevertheless,  they  threw 
glances  at  Lord  Severance.  Their  glances  would  not 
have  been  wasted  on  a  mere  every-day  male.  Of  course, 
their  excuse  might  have  been  that  they'd  prefer  glanc- 


ENTER  MISS  SOREL  13 

ing  at  their  own  American  Johnny  Garth,  who  was 
as  much  a  major  as  Lord  Severance,  and,  being  a  V.C. 
(the  one  and  only  American  V.C),  twice  as  much  a 
man  for  them. 

But  then  Garth  wasn't  in  sight,  and  Severance  was. 
Besides,  the  chair  between  Lord  Severance's  and  Mrs. 
Sorel's  was  ticketed  "Miss  Marise  Sorel."  Nobody 
could  deny  that  Miss  Sorel  was  worth  flocking  to  gaze 
at,  had  Severance  not  existed. 

Thousands,  hundred  of  thousands,  of  men  and 
women  paid  good  money  to  gaze  at  her  in  theatres.  Here 
she  could  be  seen  free  of  charge.  But  was  she  coming 
out?  the  deck  pilgrims  wondered.  And  Lord  Sever- 
ance had  an  air  of  wondering,  too.  He  held  a  book  in 
his  hand ;  but  his  eyes  were  often  on  the  nearest  door. 

They  were  strikingly  fine  eyes,  and  Lord  Severance 
was  in  appearance  a  striking  man.  "Stunning"  was  an 
adjective  used  by  some  American  promenaders.  They 
remarked,  too,  that  he  "wasn't  a  typical  Englishman. 
You'd  think  he  was  Spanish  or  something." 

He  was  not  Spanish,  but  half  of  him  was  not  Eng- 
lish ;  the  "something"  was  Greek.  His  mother  had  been 
a  Greek  heiress  and  beauty,  but  her  money  and  looks 
had  been  lost  before  she  died.  Most  valuable  things 
were  lost  after  they  had  been  in  the  Severance  family 
for  any  length  of  time.  The  beautiful  Greek  woman's 
handsome  son  had  pale  olive  skin,  a  straight  nose,  full 
red  lips  under  a  miniature  moustache  like  two  inked 
finger-prints,  raven  hair  sleekly  brushed  straight  back 
from  his  square  forehead,  and  immense  eyes  of  un- 
fathomable blackness. 

He  was  going  to  "the  States"  on  some  military  mis- 
sion, no  one  knew  quite  what,  and  so,  although  the 
war  had  finished  months  ago,  he  was  still  in  uniform, 


14  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

with  the  "brass  hat"  of  a  staff  officer,  and  the  gorgeous 
grey-lavender  overcoat  of  the  Guards.  It  seemed  as  if 
nobody  could  help  admiring  him,  and  nobody  did  help 
it,  except  a  great,  hulking  chap  in  abominable  clothes, 
with  a  khaki-coloured  handkerchief  round  his  neck  in- 
stead of  a  collar.  This  beast — in  a  sat-on-looking  cap, 
enough  to  disgrace  a  commercial  traveller,  sleeves  as 
much  too  short  for  his  red-brown  wrists  as  were  the 
trousers  for  his  strapping  ankles — strode  to  and  fro 
along  the  deck  as  if  for  a  wager.  It  was  almost  as  if  he 
flaunted  himself  in  defiance  of  someone  or  something. 
Yet  he  didn't  appear  self-conscious.  He  had  in  his 
yellow-grey  eyes  that  bored-with-humanity  look  of  a 
lion  in  a  zoo,  who  gazes  past  crowds  to  the  one  vision 
he  desires — the  desert.  Only,  now  and  then  as  he 
passed  the  chair  of  Lord  Severance,  his  look  came  back 
for  an  instant  from  the  desert,  or  waste  of  waves,  to 
shoot  scorn  at  a  pair  of  well-shod  feet  crossed  on  a  black 
fur  rug.  This  would  hardly  indicate  any  emotion 
higher  than  jealousy,  it  seemed,  as  the  boots  of  Major 
Lord  Severance  were  perfect,  and  his  own  were  vile. 

When  Severance  had  restlessly  occupied  his  chair  for 
fifteen  minutes  he  suddenly  sprang  up.  A  maid,  un- 
mistakably French,  was  squeezing  a  load  of  rugs 
through  a  doorway.  Severance  ignored  the  offered 
service  of  a  deck  steward,  as  if  the  rugs  were  too  sacred 
for  human  hands  to  touch.  With  a  kind  smile  he 
himself  helped  the  woman  in  black  to  spread  the  soft, 
furry  folds  over  the  two  neighbouring  chairs. 

"It's  like  a  scene  on  the  stage  in  a  play  written  for 
her,"  said  one  American  Red  Cross  nurse  to  another. 
"The  hero  of  the  piece  and  the  maid  working  up  the 
woman  star's  entrance." 

"Which  is  he,  more  like  hero  or  villain  V9  the  second 


ENTER  MISS  SOREL  15 

nurse  reflected  aloud.  "If  I  wrote  him  into  a  play,  he'd 
be  the  villain — that  dark  type  with  red  lips  and  a 
little  black  moustache.  But  the  Sorel's  a  star  all  right. 
We  ought  to  tune  up  and  whistle  a  bar  of  entrance 
music !  See  how  the  French  maid  puts  the  brown  rug 
on  one  chair  and  the  blue  rugs  on  the  other.  What'll 
you  bet  Sorel  and  her  mother  aren't  dressed  one  in  blue 
and  one  in  brown  ?  Gee !  The  biggest  blue  rug's  lined 
with  chinchilla.    Can  you  beat  it  ?" 

Neither  nurse  could  beat  it,  but  the  approaching 
vision  could.  She  beat  it  with  a  long  cloak  of  even 
more  silvery  chinchilla. 

At  the  door  she  stood  aside  for  an  older,  shorter, 
plumper  woman  to  pass,  she  herself  being  very  tall  and 
exquisitely  slender.  She  did  not  seem  to  look  at  any- 
one, or  be  aware  that  anyone  looked  at  her.  Neverthe- 
less, all  eyes  were  focussed  upon  the  standing  figure 
in#the  chinchilla  coat  and  blue  toque  while  the  lady  in 
brown  and  sables  was  being  seated.  Even  Lord  Sever- 
ance had  eyes  only  for  the  girl  as  he  lent  his  hands  to 
her  maid  to  tuck  in  the  brown  rugs.  But  the  girl's 
smile  was  for  her  mother,  and  it  was  not  till  Mrs.  Sorel 
was  settled  that  she  moved.  A  charming  little  scene  of 
daughterly  devotion,  worthy  a  paragraph  if  there  were 
a  journalist  in  sight! 

Just  as  Severance,  with  an  air  of  absorption,  wrapped 
Miss  Sorel's  grey  suede  shoes  in  her  chinchilla-lined 
rug,  the  giant  in  the  ghastly  clothes  hurled  himself 
past.  The  girl  did  not  lift  her  lashes,  so  famous  for 
their  length  and  curl.  She  was  hanging  a  gold-mesh 
bag  on  the  arm  of  her  chair.  You  would  say  that  she 
had  not  noticed  the  fellow.  But  the  fellow  had  noticed 
her. 

The  distant-desert  look  died.    In  his  eyes  a  flame  lit$ 


16  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

and  flashed  at  the  girl  in  the  chair.  It  was  a  light  that 
literally  spoke.  It  said  "God !  You're  a  beauty."  Then 
he  flung  one  of  his  glances  at  Severance,  scornful  or 
jealous  as  before.  To  do  this  he  had  not  actually 
paused,  yet  it  was  as  if  something  had  happened.  What- 
ever the  thing  was,  Severance  resented  it  in  hot  silence ; 
and,  in  turn,  his  eyes  did  deadly  work.  They  stabbed 
the  broad  back  of  the  badly-cut,  badly-fitting  coat  as 
its  wearer  forged  away,  hands  deep  in  pockets. 

Miss  Sorel  sat  between  her  mother  and  Lord  Sever- 
ance. She  glanced  at  the  former  as  if  to  begin  a  con- 
versation, but  Mrs.  Sorel  had  opened  her  lorgnettes  and 
a  novel.  The  girl  knew  the  signal :  "Don't  talk  to  me. 
Talk  to  him."  But  she  was  lazy  in  obeying.  She  felt 
so  sure  of  Severance,  that  she  needn't  try  to  hold  him 
by  any  tricks.  She  might  now  treat  him  as  she  chose. 
Not  that  she  had  ever  let  him  see  that  she  was  anxious 
to  please.  But  there  had  been  an  anxious  time.  The 
girl  didn't  want  to  talk,  so  she  sat  deliciously  still,  de- 
liciously  happy.  She  was  thinking.  The  restful  peace 
of  the  sea  after  stormy  days  made  her  think  of  herself. 

She  often  thought  of  herself;  more,  indeed,  than  of 
any  other  subject,  because,  like  most  beautiful  young 
actresses,  she  had  been  encouraged  to  form  the  habit. 
But  this  was  special — extra  special. 

The  girl  was  so  content  with  her  world  that  she  shut 
herself  in  with  it  by  shutting  her  eyes.  Then  she 
faintly  smiled  in  order  that  (just  in  case  they  happened 
to  look)  people  shouldn't  suppose  she  was  seasick. 

How  odd  that  it  should  be  her  mother's  lorgnettes 
which  had  reminded  her  suddenly  of  her  own  good  luck 
— the  lorgnettes,  and  the  delicate  ringed  fingers  grasp- 
ing the  tortoiseshell  handle ! 

Once  that  little  hand  had  not  been  so  white.     There 


ENTER  MISS  SOREL  17 

had  been  no  leisure  for  manicuring  nails,  and  polishing 
them  to  the  sheen  of  pink  coral.  There  had  been  no 
rings — no  lorgnettes  monogramed  with  rose  diamonds. 
That  was  before  the  "Marise"  days;  before  clever 
Mums  had  linked  together  in  the  French  way  her 
daughter's  name  of  Mary  Louise  (after  father  and 
mother)  and  begun  training  the  girl  into  superlative 
beauty  and  grace  for  the  stage.  Oh  yes,  Marise  owed 
a  lot  to  ambitious  little  Mums!  But  at  last  she  had 
been  able  to  make  generous  payment  for  all  the  trouble, 
all  the  sacrifices.  She,  Marise,  had  bought  the 
lorgnettes,  and  the  sables,  and  the  antique  rings  which 
Mums  told  everyone  were  heirlooms  in  the  Sorel  family, 
bequeathed  to  a  great-grandfather  of  "poor  dear  Louis 
by  a  Countess  Sorel  beheaded  in  the  Revolution."  She, 
Marise,  had  easily  earned  money  for  all  the  other  lovely 
things  they  both  possessed. 

It  was  like  a  dream  to  remember  how,  three  years 
ago,  she  had  been  just  a  pretty  "aetorine"  among  other 
"actorines"  in  New  York,  struggling  for  a  chance  to 
"show  what  she  could  really  do,"  her  heart  jumping  like 
a  fish  at  the  sight  of  a  Big  Manager.  Why,  hadn't  she 
literally  squeaked  with  joy  when  she  got  a  contract  for 
"fifty  per"?  And  hadn't  she  soon  after  nearly  fallen 
dead  when  Dunstan  Belloc  let  her  understudy  Elsa 
Fortescue  in  "The  Spring  Song"  ? 

Of  course,  even  at  that  time,  she  and  Mums  had  both 
been  sure  she  was  born  to  play  "Dolores,"  and  that  Elsa 
wasn't.  Belloc  hadn't  been  so  sure.  He  had  given  her 
the  part  only  because  she  looked  irresistible  when  she 
begged  for  it.  Oh,  and  perhaps  a  little  because  her  dead 
father,  Louis  Sorel,  had  been  an  old  friend  of  his. 
Marise  had  had  to  "make  good,"  and  she  had  made 
good. 


18  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Not  that  the  girl  had  wished  harm  to  Elsa  Fortescue. 
But  Elsa  was  a  "Has  Been/'  whereas  "Dolores"  was 
supposed  to  be  in  the  springtime  of  youth,  and  possessed 
of  an  annihilating  beauty — the  beauty  which  draws 
men  as  the  moon  draws  the  sea.  Marise  didn't  think  it 
conceited  to  face  facts,  and  admit  that  this  description 
fitted  her  like  a  glove.  These  gifts  had  brought  her 
sensational  success  in  a  single  night,  whereas  the  piece 
had  simply  "flivvered"  with  Elsa  as  star.  The  critics 
had  been  cold  if  not  cruel,  and  grief  mixed  with  grippe 
laid  Elsa  low.  Then  little  Marise  Sorel  (only  figura- 
tively "little,"  she  being  one  of  those  willowy,  long- 
limbed  nymphs  who  are  the  models  and  manikins  of  the 
moment),  "little  Marise/'  in  whom  author  and  manager 
felt  scant  faith,  had  saved  the  play  and  made  herself. 
Both  had  boomed  for  a  wonderful  year,  and  at  the  end 
of  that  time  England  had  called  for  "Dolores"  and 
"The  Song." 

Oh,  and  those  two  years  in  London  that  followed! 
Never  could  another  girl  have  known  anything  like 
them  since  the  days  of  the  great  professional  beauties 
whom  crowds  had  mobbed  in  Hyde  Park.  Papers  and 
people  had  praised  Miss  Sorel's  looks,  her  voice,  and 
her  talent.  It  was  thought  quite  amazing  that  a  girl  so 
lovely  should  take  the  trouble  to  act  well,  but  Marise 
explained  to  interviewers  that  she  couldn't  help  acting. 
It  was  in  her  blood  to  act — her  father's  blood.  She 
didn't  add  that  ambition  was  in  her  mother's  blood, 
and  that  Mums  was  doing  all  she  could  to  hand  it  on  to 
the  next  generation.  It  wasn't  necessary  to  mention 
ambition  to  the  public.  Some  people  considered  am- 
bition more  a  vice  than  a  virtue.  But  Marise,  who 
knew  what  poor  Mums's  past  had  been,  understood  the 
passion  and  even  felt  the  thrill  of  it.    Not  only  had  she 


ENTER  MISS  SOREL  19 

had  the  "time  of  her  life"  in  those  two  years,  but  she 
had  met  people  whom  she  couldn't  have  approached  be- 
fore her  blossoming  as  "Dolores"  in  "The  Spring 
Song."  As  "Dolores"  she  had  been  spoiled,  feted, 
adored;  and  she  had  become  rich. 

Now,  here  she  was  on  the  way  back  to  dear  New  York 
to  revive  the  play,  which  Belloc,  as  manager,  and 
Sheridan,  as  author,  expected  to  surpass  its  first  success. 
At  present  Miss  Sorel  had  the  valued  cachet  of  a  Lon- 
don triumph  added  to  her  charms.  She  was  more  chic, 
she  could  act  and  sing  better,  than  before.  Isadora 
Duncan  had  coached  her  for  the  dance  in  the  last  scene, 
as  an  act  of  generous  friendship,  and  this  had  given 
"The  Song"  a  new  fillip  in  London.  It  would  be  the 
same  in  New  York. 

As  if  this  were  not  enough  to  satisfy  an  older  "star" 
than  she,  there  was  the  wonderful  way  in  which  the 
affair  of  Tony  Severance  had  developed.  He  had 
strained  every  nerve  to  sail  with  her  on  the  Britannia. 
Heaven  alone  knew  how  he'd  obtained  or  invented  the 
"mission"  which  had  made  his  plan  possible.  It  was 
entirely  for  her  sake,  and  everyone  was  coupling  their 
names — in  a  nice,  proper  way,  of  course.  She  was  that 
kind  of  girl.  And  Mums  was  that  kind  of  mother. 
Even  before  Severance  had  come  into  the  title,  he  had 
been  splendidly  worth  while  on  account  of  his  looks,  his 
position,  and  his  "set,"  but  now  it  seemed  to  Marise  that 
every  unmarried  woman  in  England  and  America  must 
be  envying  her. 

As  she  sipped  the  honey  of  these  thoughts,  the  girl 
felt  that  Severance  was  staring  at  her  eyelashes,  and 
willing  her  to  lift  them.  But  she  would  not,  just  yet. 
She  went  on  with  her  thinking.  She  asked  herself  if 
her  feeling  for  him  were  love  ?    Of  course,  it  wasn't  the 


20  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Dolores"  sort  of  love  for  "David  Hardcastle,"  but 
love  like  that  was  safer  on  the  stage  than  off.  Marise 
admired  Tony,  and  was  very  proud  of  her  conquest, 
though  she  would  admit  that  to  no  one  except  Mums. 
She  had  been  horribly  afraid,  humiliatingly  afraid  for 
a  few  days,  that  he  might  change  his  mind  if  not  his 
heart,  when  the  earldom  fell  into  his  hands  like  a  prize- 
package.  If  she'd  not  been  sure  before  that  Tony  was 
the  one  man  for  her,  she  was  frantically  sure  after  the 
great  surprise,  when  he  was  safely  on  board  the  Bri- 
tannia. How  pleased  the  cats  would  have  been  if  she'd 
lost  him — the  cats  who  pretended  to  think,  in  the  days 
before  he  was  Lord  Severance,  that  the  honesty  of  his 
intentions  depended  upon  her  money. 

They  would  see  now — hateful,  jealous  things!  For, 
as  the  Earl  of  Severance^  though  not  rich,  Tony  would 
be  no  longer  poor,  and  he  had  proved  by  sailing  with 
her  that  life  without  Marise  Sorel  was  worthless  to  him. 

The  cats  would  be  sorry  when  she  was  the  Countess  of 
Severance,  for  every  nasty  word  they'd  said.  She 
would  forgive,  but  she  would  never  be  nice  to  them,  of 
course.  She  would  ask  the  creatures  only  to  big,  dull 
parties,  just  to  let  them  see  what  a  grande  dame  little 
Marise  had  become.  And  even  if  she  weren't  certain 
that  she'd  rather  be  a  Countess  than  a  stage  star,  Mums 
was  certain  for  her — poor  Mums,  who  had  always 
yearned  to  be  at  the  top !  And  it  would  really  be  nice 
to  "belong"  among  the  great  people  who  had  played 
with  her  for  a  while  and  made  her  their  pet. 

Marise  opened  her  eyes.  She  did  not,  however,  turn 
them  to  Severance.  She  gazed  at  the  one  ring  which 
adorned  her  left  hand.  She  never  wore  more  than  one 
ring  at  a  time.  This,  and  having  all  her  jewels  match 
each  other,  her  dress  and  her  mood,  was  a  fad  of  hers. 


ENTER  MISS  SOREL  21 

Celine  helped  her  carry  it  out.  But  if  Severance  gave 
her  a  diamond,  that  would  match  nothing,  and  spoil  the 
scheme. 

"You  have  the  longest  lashes  of  any  woman,  in  the 
world,"  he  remarked. 

"One  would  think  you'd  seen  them  all — all  the 
women  and  all  the  eyelashes!"  She  looked  at  him  at 
last,  and  her  soft,  smoke-blue  eyes  were  the  colour  of 
her  sapphire  brooch  and  chain. 

"I've  seen  my  share  of  fair  ladies." 

"So  I've  heard." 

"You've  probably  heard  a  good  deal  that  isn't  true." 
Severance  glanced  at  Mrs.  Sorel,  or  at  what  he  could 
see  of  her,  which  was  mostly  book,  lorgnettes,  and  hand. 
She  seemed  absorbed.    He  leaned  towards  Marise. 

"The  last  three  days  have  been  a  hundred  years 
long,"  he  murmured. 

"Why  ?    Have  you  been  seasick,  poor  boy  ?" 

"No!"  (This  was  a  slight  deviation  from  the 
truth.)     "I've  been  beastly  dull  without  you." 

"If  you're  such  a  good  sailor,  couldn't  you  walk,  and 
read,  and " 

"I  couldn't  be  bothered  doing  anything  intelligent. 
I  moped  in  my  cabin."  ("Moped"  was  one  word  for 
what  he  had  done.)    "I " 

"Oh,  here  comes  Samson  again!"  Marise  broke  in. 
"Isn't  that  absolutely  the  name  for  him?  It  jumped 
into  my  head  when  he  passed  before  and  gave  me  that 
wild  sort  of  look — did  you  notice?" 

"I  did,"  said  Severance  drily.  "I  thought  you  didn't. 
Your  eyes  were  apparently  glued  to  your  gold  bag." 

"What's  the  good  of  being  an  actress  if  you  can't  see 
two  things  at  once,  especially  if  one  of  them's  the 
biggest  thing  on  the  ship  ?    Nobody  could  help  noticing 


22  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

that — any  more  than  if  Mont  Blanc  suddenly  waltzed 
down  stage  from  off  the  back  drop." 

"Waltzed  ?    'Galumped'  is  the  word  in  this  case." 

"Oh,  do  you  think  so?"  Marise  appealed.  "He 
walks  like  a  man  used  to  wide,  free  spaces." 

"Like  a  farmer,  you  mean.  To  my  mind,  that's  hia 
part:  Hodge — not  Samson." 

"I've  forgotten  what  Samson  was,  I'm  ashamed  to 
say,  before  he  played  opposite  Delilah,"  confessed 
Marise.  "I  suppose  he  was  a  warrior — most  men  were 
in  those  days — as  now.  This  might  be  one — if  it 
weren't  for  the  clothes.  They  certainly  are  the  limit ! 
But  do  you  know,  he  could  be  very  distinguished-look- 
ing, even  handsome,  decently  turned  out?" 

"No,  I  don't  know  it,  my  child."  Severance  beat 
down  his  irritation.  "The  only  way  I  can  picture  that 
ugly  blighter  being  decently  'turned  out,'  is  out  of  a 
respectable  club." 

"You  talk  as  if  you  had  a  grudge  against  my  pro- 
vincial Samson,"  laughed  Marise,  whose  blue  eyes  had 
followed  the  "blighter"  along  the  deck  to  the  point  of 
disappearance. 

"I  don't  want  to  talk  about  him  at  all,"  protested 
Severance.    "I  want  to  talk  about  you." 

"We're  always  talking  about  me!"  smiled  Marise, 
who  was  honestly  not  aware  how  she  enjoyed  talking 
about  herself,  or  how  soon  she  tired  of  most  other 
subjects.  "If  you  won't  talk  of  one  man,  let's  talk  of 
another!  For  instance,  have  you  seen  our  V.C.  pas- 
senger ?" 

Severance  flushed  slightly.  "Didn't  I  tell  you,  angel 
girl,  that  I've  been  in  my  cabin  the  whole  time  ?" 

"You  didn't  say  the  'whole'  time.  And  anyhow, 
there's  such  a  crowd  on  board,  they  might  have  stuck  a 


ENTER  MISS  SOREL  23 

fellow-soldier  in  with  you  at  the  last  moment.  Didn't 
they  warn  you  that  they  couldn't  promise  a  cabin  to 
yourself?  Naturally  they'd  have  chosen  aV.C.  as  the 
least  insupportable  person." 

"Several  V.C.'s  I've  met  have  been  most  insupport- 
able persons,"  grumbled  Severance. 

Something  in  his  tone  made  the  girl  suddenly  face 
him  with  wide-open  eyes.  She  saw  the  dusky  stain  of 
red  under  the  olive  skin,  and  the  drawing  down  of  the 
black  brows.  "Why,  Tony,  how  stupid  of  me  not  to 
remember  before!"  she  exclaimed. 

There!  It  had  come — the  thing  that  was  bound  to 
come  sooner  or  later.  Severance,  rawly  sensitive  on 
this  subject  which  the  girl  refused  to  drop,  had  wanted 
it  to  be  later. 

For  the  first  time  he  thought  that  Marise  Sorel  was 
more  obstinate  than  a  beautiful  young  woman  ought  to 
be.    In  a  man  he  would  call  such  persistence  mulish. 


CHAPTEE  II 


EXIT  THE  BLIGHTER 


STUPID   not  to  remember  what?"    Severance  still 
temporised,  though  he  knew  the  answer. 

"Not  to  remember  that  man  named  Garth,  in  your 
regiment,  who  was  promoted  from  a  private  to  be  an 
officer,  and  won  the  V.C.  I  think  it  was  Mums  who 
asked  you  about  him  one  day,  when  she'd  read  some- 
thing in  the  Daily  Mail,  and  you  said  he  was  a  cad.  Is 
this  by  any  chance  the  same  Garth  ?" 

"By  evil  chance,  it  is." 

Marise  was  interested.  She  was  dramatic,  and  liked 
coincidences.  Mrs.  Sorel  was  interested  too,  with  that 
part  of  her  mind — the  principal  part — which  was  not 
reading  Wells's  Joan  and  Peter.  It  was  quite  easy,  for 
two  reasons,  to  unhook  her  attention  from  the  book.  One 
reason  was  that  as  a  chaperon  she  was  reading  by  dis- 
cretion, not  inclination.  The  other  reason  was,  if  she 
had  to  read  at  all,  she  would  secretly  have  preferred  a 
"smart  society"  novel.  But  when  she  read  in  public  she 
always  selected  a  book  which  could  be  talked  about  in- 
tellectually. 

She  knew  how  strong  this  feeling  of  Lord  Severance 
against  the  regimental  hero  had  been,  and  she  wished 
that  Marise  would  show  a  little  tact,  and  not  vex  him. 
He  had  not  proposed  yet ! 

But  Marise  went  on.  "How  quaint  that  your  Major 
Garth  should  be  on  board  our  ship!" 

24 


EXIT  THE  BLIGHTER  25 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  don't  call  him  my  Major  Garth, 
dear  girl !     I  loathe  the  brute." 

"But  why,  old  thing  ?    You  might  tell  me  why." 

"I  did,  at  the  time  your  mother  mentioned  him." 

"If  you  did,  Pve  forgotten.  Do  tell  me  again.  It 
sounds  exciting." 

Mary  Sorel  thought  that  intervention  would  now  be 
more  useful  than  detachment. 

"You  two  are  talking  so  loudly,  I  can't  read!"  she 
sweetly  reproved  the  pair.  "I  caught  the  name  of 
Garth,  and  the  whole  conversation  we  had  that  day, 
about  him,  came  back  to  me.  We  were  lunching  with 
Lord  Severance  at  the  Carlton,  and  I  showed  him  a 
paragraph  I'd  clipped  from  the  Daily  Mail.  I  thought 
as  it  was  about  his  regiment  he  might  be  interested  if 
he  hadn't  seen  it.  It  was  headed  'Komantic  Career  of 
a  Hero.  British-born  American  Wins  the  Victoria 
Cross.'  But  he  wasn't  interested,  because  he  explained 
that  the  man  was  a  blot  on  the  Brigade;  very  common, 
not  a  gentleman." 

"Yes,  it  comes  back  to  me,  too,"  said  Marise.  "But 
if  he  was  a  hero " 

"That's  all  newspaper  tosh!"  cut  in  Severance. 
"They  must  have  headings !  It's  luck  more  than  hero- 
ism that  gets  a  chap  the  Victoria  Cross.  Soldiers  all 
know  that.     Otherwise " 

His  lips  said  no  more.  Only  his  eyes  were  eloquent. 
The  beautiful  lavender-grey  overcoat  hid  no  ribbon- 
symbols  of  decorations  on  his  breast.  But  how  can  a 
staff  officer  find  the  chance  his  soul  yearns  for,  to  show 
his  mettle — except  the  metal  on  his  expensive  "brass 
hat"? 

"Of  course!"  Mrs.  Sorel  breathed  sympathetically. 

"Garth  was  all  right  as  a  private,   I  dare  say," 


26  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Severance  grudged.  "Even  as  an  officer  he  might  have 
passed  in  some  regiments.  But  not  in  the  Guards.  He* 
ought  never  to  have  been  let  come  in.  And  he  ought 
certainly  not  to  have  stayed  in,  knowing  how  we  felt. 
If  he'd  had  any  proper  pride,  he  wouldn't  have  stopped 
a  day." 

"Perhaps  it  was  pride  made  him  stick/'  suggested 
Marise,  led  on  somehow  she  hardly  knew  why — to  de- 
fend the  culprit. 

"  'Proper'  pride  was  my  word,"  Severance  reminded 
her. 

"Extraordinary  that  an  American  should  berssarving 
with  the  Guards,  in  the  first  place!"  Mary  Sqrel  jlung 
herself  into  the  breach,  hoping  to  stop  the  argument. 
Arguments  made  her  anxious.  She  thought  that  they 
led  to  quarrels.  And  not  for  anything  on  earth  would 
she  have  Marise  quarrel  with  Severance,  the  only  earl 
who  had  ever  shown  symptoms  of  proposing.  It  had 
been  well  enough  for  the  girl  to  pique  him  when  he  was 
a  handsome  young  man  about  town,  whose  good  position 
was  counterbalanced  by  the  star's  financial  and  face 
value.  But  since  six  weeks  Severance  had  become  a 
great  catch.  Other  girls  were  digging  bait  in  case  the 
fish  should  wriggle,  or  be  coaxed,  off  Marise  Sorel's 
hook. 

"The  fellow's  luck  again!"  growled  Severance.  "I 
don't  know  what  his  job  was  in  his  own  country.  I 
don't  interest  myself  in  the  private  life  of  the  lower 
classes.  All  I  know  is,  he  wasn't  a  soldier;  but  he 
had  some  bee  in  his  bonnet  about  a  future  war,  and  a 
theory  that  there'd  be  trench  fighting  on  a  big  scale. 
He  contrived  to  invent  and  patent  a  motor  entrenching 
tool,  supposed  to  act  fifty  times  quicker  than  anything 
else  ever  seen.    Then  he  proceeded  to  experiment  on  his 


EXIT  THE  BLIGHTER  27 

tack-woods  farm,  or  his  wild  west  ranch,  or  whatever  it 
was.  Washington  wasn't  'taking  any/  however  (isn't 
that  what  you  say  in  the  States?),  so  Garth  decided  to 
try  it  on  the  British  bulldog.  Where  his  big  stroke  of 
luck  came  in  was  meeting  our  old  0.0.  on  board  ship 
crossing  to  England.  The  Colonel  had  been  in  New 
York  with  his  American  wife.  He  probably  heard  the 
blighter  brag  of  his  invention,  and  that  would  catch  him 
as  toasted  cheese  in  a  trap  catches  a  hungry  rat.  You 
see,  the  old  boy  always  had  a  craze  of  his  own  about 
trench  warfare,  and  I  believe  he  used  to  bore  the  W.O. 
stiff,  roaring  for  some  such  machine  as  this  chap  Garth 
invented.  Naturally,  Pobbles  (that's  what  we  call  the 
CO.  behind  his  back) — Lord  Pobblebrook,  you  know — 
took  the  man  up.  Not  socially,  of  course.  Garth's 
about  on  a  social  level  with  Lady  Pobblebrook's  foot- 
man, I  should  think.  But  he  got  the  W.O.  to  look  at 
the  trench  tool,  and — as  if  that  wasn't  luck  enough  for 
the  bounder! — the  war  broke  out.  The  W.O.  bought 
Garth's  invention,  as  you  saw  in  the  Mail,  and  paid 
about  tuppence  for  it,  I  suppose.  He  had  a  fancy  to 
enlist  in  the  British  Army — feared  the  U.S.A.  would 
be  a  bit  late  coming  in,  perhaps.  I  never  heard  of  any 
American  dropping  into  the  Guards  before,  even  as  a 
Tommy,  but  it  must  have  been  easy  enough  with  a  push 
from  Pobbles,  especially  as  the  chap's  people  had  been 
English,  I  believe.  If  it  hadn't  been  for  Pobbles,  Garth 
would  certainly  not  have  got  a  commission.  Anyhow 
not  with  us." 

"Oh,  you  Guardsmen  think  you're  gods!"  the  girl 
teased  him. 

"Not  gallery  gods,  in  any  case,"  Severance  caught 
her  up.  "That's  why  we  don't  want  that  sort  in  our 
mess  and  clubs.     Most  regiments  have  had  to  put  up 


o 


28  THE  VISION  HOUSE 


with  a  mixture  of  these  'temporary  gentlemen/  but  not 
Ours.  Besides,  'temporary'  and  'permanent'  are  differ- 
ent words.  The  'temporary'  kind  can't  be  permanent, 
don't  you  see  ?  For  their  own  sakes,  they  ought  to  step 
down  and  out  when  they  cease  to  be  useful,  because 
they  never  can  be  ornamental.  We  of  the  Brigade  have 
a  good  deal  to  live  up  to,  you  must  admit.  I  assure 
you,  I'm  not  the  only  one  who  hasn't  exactly  encouraged 
Garth  to  wear  out  his  welcome." 

"How  about  the  Colonel  ?"  Marise  inquired. 

"Oh,  Pobbles.  He  doesn't  count  in  this  scrap.  He's 
practically  never  in  the  mess,  so  the  bad  manners  and 
bad  boots  of  a  cad  don't  interfere  with  his  digestion. 
Besides,  he  was  responsible  for  landing  us  with  the  fel- 
low. I  don't  suppose  he  ever  dreamed  for  a  moment 
that  a  man  of  that  type  would  dare — or  wish — to  stay 
on  as  an  officer  of  the  regiment  after  the  war.  But 
there  it  is !  To  save  his  own  face  the  CO.  could  hardly 
give  Garth  the  cold  shoulder.  Pobbles  whitewashed 
himself  by  extolling  the  swine  as  a  soldier,  and  quoting 
such  stuff  as  'hearts  are  more  than  coronets,'  and  so  on." 

"Aren't  they  ?"  murmured  Marise. 

"Oh,  of  course,  in  the  way  you  mean.  But  not  in 
the  mess  of  a  Guards  regiment." 

"I  see,"  said  the  girl,  with  a  blue  twinkle  beneath  the 
admired  lashes.  For  some  reason  it  amused  her  to 
wave  a  red  flag,  and  play  with  the  lordly  Severance  as 
with  a  baited  bull,  under  her  mother's  cautioning 
glances.  It  was  just  a  mood.  Marise  wasn't  even  sure 
that  she  did  not  agree  with  Tony ;  and  she  was  certain 
that  Mums  agreed.  No  lady  possessed  of  ancestral 
jewels,  handed  down  from  beheaded  aristocrats,  could 
afford  to  hide  the  smallest  coronet  under  the  biggest 
bushel  of  hearts,  in  a  mess,  or  a  drawing-room,  or  any- 


EXIT  THE  BLIGHTER  29 

where !  Poor  Mums,  she  was  being  baited,  too !  But  it 
was  rather  fun.  And  it  could  do  no  harm,  since 
Maris©  counted  Tony  her  own  forever. 

"So  all  of  you  younger  officers  have  been  doing  your 
best  to  squeeze  my  poor  countryman  out  ?"  she  ventured 
on. 

"Not  because  he's  a  countryman  of  yours.  You  must 
understand  that!  Because  he's  impossible.  And  for 
the  honour  of  the  regiment.  I'm  sorry  to  say,  though, 
that  we  weren't  unanimous  in  the  matter.  There  have 
been  two  or  three — er — not  rows,  but  something  in  that 
line,  a  few  men  inclining  to  let  Garth  'dree  his  own 
weird,'  and  learn  for  himself  that  he's  a  square  peg  in 
a  round  hole.  But  Billy  Ravenswood  and  Cecil  de 
Marchand  and  I  took  a  firm  stand." 

"I  can  see  you  taking  it!"  giggled  Marise.  "You 
took  the  firm  stand  on  one  foot  only,  and  kicked  with, 
the  other !  When  you  got  tired  of  the  exercise,  and  had 
to  sit  down,  you  sat  on  Major  Garth,  V.O. — sat  hard!" 

Severance  laughed  a  little  too,  her  giggle  was  so  con- 
tagious. Besides,  at  last,  she  did  seem  to  be  entering 
into  the  spirit  of  the  game.  "Something  of  the  sort," 
he  admitted,  not  without  pride  in  remembered  achieve- 
ments.   "The  lot  of  an  intruder  among  us  isn't  a  happy 


one." 


"I  should  think  not,  if  the  rest  are  like  you,"  said 
Marise.  "I've  seen  you  perfectly  horrid  to  quite  in- 
offensive people  you  didn't  happen  to  approve  of." 

"The  person  you  force  me  to  discuss,  dear  child,  is 
the  opposite  of  inoffensive,"  amended  Severance.  "Can't 
we  drop  him  ?" 

"You  seem  to  have  done  so  successfully  already," 
said  she.  "As  he's  on  this  ship,  homeward  bound,  the 
regiment  is  rid  of  him,  isn't  it  ?" 


30  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"I'm  not  so  sure.  In  fact,  Fm  not  at  all  sure.  He's 
in  mufti,  certainly — to  insult  the  good  old  word !  But 
I  understand  he  still  refuses  to  confess  he's  beaten,  and 
is  only  on  long  leave." 

"Oh,  he's  in  mufti !  But  you'll  point  him  out,  if  he 
comes  on  deck,  won't  you,  boy  ?  After  all  this  talk,  I 
pine  to  see  what  he's  like.    If  he  passes  by " 

"Thank  Heaven,  he  has  passed  by.  He's  gone  in- 
side, and  we're  rid  of  him  for  the  moment." 

"Tony,  you  don't  mean — you  can't !" 

"What?" 

"Samson?" 

"Why,  yes.  Didn't  you  realise  that?  Now  per- 
haps you'll  understand  why  we  don't  want  this  particu- 
lar Samson  pulling  down  the  pillars  of  our  temples." 

"He  may  have  heard  what  we  said !  He  was  walking 
back  and  forth  part  of  the  time  as  we  talked." 

"Who  cares  if  he  did  hear  ?  It  would  do  him  good — 
be  a  douche  to  cool  his  conceit." 

At  that  instant  the  back  of  Severance's  head  was 
coldly  douched.  Something  popped :  something  spurted. 
A  jet  of  water  sprayed  over  him,  fizzing  with  such  force 
that  it  blew  his  gold-laced  Guards'  cap  over  his  eyes. 

Marise  and  her  mother  were  petrified.  They  could 
only  gasp. 


CHAPTER  III 


A  CABIN  WINDOW 


AFTER  the  first  dazed  instant,  tlie  girl  had  a  wild 
inclination  to  laugh.  She  suppressed  it  with  the 
explosive  struggle  of  suppressing  a  sneeze.  Poor,  dear 
Tony !  It  would  be  cruel  to  make  fun  of  him,  more 
cruel  than  if  the  top  of  his  head  had  been  blown  off! 
Eor  him — especially  at  this  moment  of  his  high  boast- 
ing— it  was  tragic  to  be  made  ridiculous.  But  it  was 
funny — frightfully  funny — to  see  his  expression  of 
stunned  rage  at  the  accident,  as  he  dried  his  face  and 
hair  with  a  faintly  fragrant,  monogramed  handkerchief, 
and  wiped  something  fizzing  out  of  his  eyes. 

Of  course  it — whatever  it  was — must  have*  been  an 
accident.  Yet  it  was  odd,  or  perhaps  merely  fortunate, 
that  all  the  liquid  had  spurted  over  Severance,  not  a 
drop  spattering  the  girl's  blue  toque.  That  thought 
darted  through  the  mind  of  Marise,  and  prompted  a 
quick  turn  of  ^ the  head.  At  the  open  stateroom  window 
behind  the  deck  chairs  stood  someone  whose  face  she 
could  not  see.  In  fact,  the  presence  of  this  person  was 
indicated  only  by  a  ginger-beer  bottle  still  pointing, 
pistol-like,  at  Lord  Severance's  back.  The  bottle  was 
almost  empty,  its  contents  having  been  discharged  in 
one  rush,  and  a  mere  inoffensive  froth  now  dribbled 
over  the  window-sill.  This  vision  told  at  a  glance  what 
had  occurred.     The  glass  ball  inside  the  mouth  of  the 

31 


32  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

bottle  had  been  pushed  with  too  great  violence.  But 
why,  why,  had  the  experiment  been  made  at  the  win- 
dow ?    Was  it  the  act  of  a  stupid  steward,  or 

An  answer  to  the  question  flashed  into  the  girl's 
brain,  and  again  it  was  all  she  could  do  to  control  a 
shriek  of  laughter.  (She  had  an  inconvenient  sense  of 
humour,  inherited  from  Louis  Sorel,  and  earnestly  dis- 
couraged by  her  mother.)  What  if — but  no!  The 
creature  wouldn't  dare.     Or  would  he? 

"Sorry!"  said  a  voice.  "Accident,  I  assure  you. 
Hope  the  lady  wasn't  touched." 

With  this,  Marise  knew  that  the  creature  had  dared. 
Though  she  had  never  heard  the  "blighter"  speak,  she 
was  as  certain  of  his  identity  as  of  her  own.  That,  then, 
was  his  stateroom  window.  He  had  disappeared  from 
the  deck  intending  to  do  the  thing,  and  he  had  done 
it.  From  his  own  point  of  view  he  had  done  it  with 
deadly  skill,  and  she  was  sure  he  knew  without  asking 
that  "the  lady"  had  not  been  "touched."  Of  course, 
he  had  heard  what  Severance  said,  and  this  was  his 
revenge  for  past  and  present  insults.  It  was,  no  doubt, 
the  deed  of  a  cad,  or  a  mischievous  schoolboy,  but  ar- 
riving on  top  of  Severance's  last  words,  thus  douching 
the  doucher,  it  was  so  neat  that  it  hit  the  girl's  sense 
of  drama  as  the  beer  had  hit  the  "brass  hat." 

She  wanted  to  say,  "No,  I  wasn't  touched,  thank 
you."  But  Severance  would  never  forgive  her  for 
bandying  words  with  the  bounder.  She  expected  Tony 
to  speak — to  say  something,  if  only  a  "Damn  you!" 
which  would  have  been  almost  excusable  even  in  the 
presence  of  ladies.  But  to  her  surprise  he  left  the 
disguised  defiance  unanswered. 

"Disgusting!"  he  exclaimed  impersonally.  "Crea- 
tures like  that  ought  to  be  caged.     I'm  afraid  I  must 


A  CABIN  WINDOW  33 

retire  for  repairs.  But  I'll  be  back  in  a  few  minutes. 
You  won't  go  away,  will  you  V 

"No,  indeed,"  Mary  Sorel  assured  him.  "What  a 
shocking  shame.  Poor  Lord  Severance!  But  how 
much  worse  if  it  had  been  ale  or  stout !  Think  of  the 
horrid  odour — and  the  stains  on  your  beautiful  coat!" 

"It  would  have  been  ale  or  stout  if  the  ship  wasn't 
'dry'  on  account  of  a  few  returning  soldiers!"  said 
Severance  with  extreme  bitterness,  as  he  got  up.  "I 
wonder  it  wasn't  ink.    Only  ink  doesn't  spurt." 

He  crushed  his  wet  cap  over  his  wet  hair,  and  went 
off,  mumbling  like  distant  thunder.  Behind  the  chairs, 
the  beer-bottle  window  slid  shut,  but  Marise  fancied  she 
heard  through  the  thick  stained  glass  a  wild  chortle  of 

joy- 
Mrs.   Sorel  closed  her  book,  with  the  lorgnettes  to 

mark  her  page,  and  leaned  across  Tony's  empty  chair. 

"Marise,  you  laughed!"  she  reproved  her  daughter. 
"How  could  you  ?" 

"I  didn't,  I  only  boo-higgled  in  my  throat." 

"I  wish  you'd  be  more  careful,"  cautioned  the  elder 
woman.  "If  you're  not,  take  it  from  me,  you  may  be 
sorry  yet.  Tony  is  worried  about  something.  I  noticed 
it  the  moment  we  came  on  board.  You  know  what  an 
instinct  I  have!  I  feel  as  if — but  I  mustn't  tell  you 
now.    He  may  get  to  his  stateroom  and  hear  us." 

"What  makes  you  think  he  could  hear  us  from  his 
stateroom  f  asked  Marise.  "Do  you  know  where  it 
is?" 

"Why,  yes,"  replied  the  other.  "I  was  with  him 
when  he  chose  the  place  for  our  chairs.  You  were  in 
our  cabin  showing  Celine  what  to  unpack.  He  pointed 
out  his  window,  and — but  my  goodness !" 

A  gasp  stopped  her  words.    Marise  followed  the 


34  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

direction  of  the  puzzled  or  startled  brown  eyes.  They 
stared  at  the  window  just  closed,  from  whose  sill  ginger- 
beer  continued  to  drip. 

"Is  that  his  room  ?"  breathed  the  girl. 

"I  thought  that  was  the  window,  but  I  must  be  mis- 
taken, of  course.  Probably  it's  the  next  one — on  my 
side  or  yours." 

Marise  let  the  question  drop.  She  wasn't  pining  to 
confide  the  contents  of  her  mind.  Besides,  her  conjec- 
tures were  too  vague  for  words.  In  striving  to  frame 
them  she  would  surely  laugh,  and  Mums  would  think 
her  a  callous  wretch. 

Mrs.  Sorel,  anxious  to  be  overheard  saying  the  right 
thing,  if  she  were  overheard  at  all,  began  to  chat  about 
friends  who  had  sent  flowers  or  telegrams  on  board. 
Each  name  she  mentioned  had  a  "handle."  She  liked 
Lord  Severance  to  be  reminded  casually  now  and  then 
that  her  girl  had  titled  admirers  outside  the  circle  he 
had  brought  round  them.  But  Marise  was  not  listening. 
She  was  putting  two  and  two  together. 

When  she  suggested  that  the  V.C.  had  been  billeted 
in  Tony's  cabin,  Tony  had  said  neither  "yes"  nor  "no," 
now  she  came  to  think  of  it.  He  had  caught  at  another 
branch  of  the  subject  which  she  elected  to  pursue.  He 
hadn't  wanted  her  to  know  that  the  loathed  Major  Garth 
was  his  room-mate.  Why  ?  Oh,  he  would  feel  it  humil- 
iating to  his  amour  propre.  He  had  wished  to  buy  a 
cabin  for  himself  alone,  and  had  been  told  that  it  was 
too  late:  "the  company  would  do  their  best,  but  could 
not  promise."  Then,  fate  and  the  company's  good  in- 
tentions had  picked  out  the  one  companion  he  would 
least  have  chosen. 

It  was  almost  too  queer,  and  too  bad,  to  be  true;  yet 
the  more  she  thought  of  it  the  truer  it  seemed.    Her 


A  CABIN  WINDOW  35 

mother's  impression  about  the  window — and  the  lack  of 
surprise  Severance  had  shown  after  the  "accident." 
Once  recovered  from  the  shock,  he  wore  an  air  of  having 
got  what  might  have  been  expected.  He  hadn't  even 
looked  over  his  wet  shoulder  to  glare  at  the  sniper.  Oh, 
Marise  saw  it  all  now!  Tony  had  made  his  last  re- 
marks for  the  benefit  of  the  bete  noire,  believing  he  had 
gone  to  the  mutual  cabin,  but  not  dreaming  how  far  a 
bounder,  in  bounding,  might  bound  for  revenge.  She 
would  have  given  a  good  deal  to  know  whether  Sever- 
ance had  now  joined  his  room-mate  in  their  quarters, 
and  if  so,  what  was  going  on. 

In  a  hand-to-hand  fight  Severance  would  be  apt  to 
get  second  best  with  Samson,  unless  skill  should  master 
strength.  Was  that  why  he  had  flung  back  no  chal- 
lenge? But,  of  course,  it  couldn't  be;  Tony  wast  not 
a  coward.  He  had  merely  kept  his  temper  to  save  a 
scene.  Nevertheless,  she  wished  that  Garth  hadn't  shut 
the  window ! 


CHAPTER  IV 


REPRISALS ET  CETERA 


JOHN  GARTH  considered  himself  completely  justi- 
fied in  shooting  Severance  with  a  pint  of  iced  gin- 
ger-beer, and  even  had  his  conscience  squirmed  he  would 
have  committed  the  act.  Knowing  that  Severance 
thought  of,  and  denounced,  him  as  "a  bounder,"  he 
didn't  see  why,  when  worst  came  to  worst,  he  shouldn't 
live  up  to  the  reputation. 

Worst  had  come  to  worst  on  board  the  Britannia. 
Things  had  been  bad  enough  before,  but  the  climax  was 
reached  when  the  two  men  found  themselves  caged  in 
the  same  room,  neither  one  willing  to  play  lamb  to  the 
other's  lion.  Garth  hated  the  proximity  as  hotly  as 
Severance  hated  it ;  but  there  was  no  cabin  of  any  class 
with  a  free  berth,  save  one  occupied  by  a  coloured 
colonel  in  charge  of  negro  troops  going  home.  Garth 
had  a  deep  respect  for  the  dark  soldiers,  who  had  dis- 
tinguished themselves  in  the  war ;  but  men  of  white  and 
men  of  black  skin  were  not  quartered  together ;  and  he 
had  never  boiled  to  throttle  Severance  as  he  boiled  at 
the  cool  proposal  that  he  should  join  Colonel  Dookey. 

"Join  him  yourself,"  he  said. 

"I'm  not  an  American,"  shrugged  Severance. 

"That's  why  you  and  he  would  get  along  better  than 
you  and  me,  or  he  and  me,"  retorted  Garth,  careless  of 
grammar. 

"I  shall  remain  where  I  am,"  Severance  gave  his 
ultimatum. 

36 


REPRISALS— ET  CETERA  37 

"Same  here.  You  ought  to  be  thankful  your  earlship 
has  got  the  lower  berth." 

This  statement  required  no  answer;  and  the  conver- 
sation lapsed. 

Garth  had  not  taken  his  allotted  seat  at  the  Captain's 
table,  because  he  understood  that  ladies  would  be  there, 
friends  of  Lord  Severance.  He  could  not  trust  his 
temper  if  it  were  strained  by  continued  public  snub- 
bing in  the  presence  of  women.  Besides,  secretly  shy  of 
the  dangerous  sex,  the  man  who  had  won  the  V.C. 
shrank  like  a  coward  from  the  prospect  of  being  "turned 
down"  by  aristrocratic  females.  He  preferred  to  snatch 
picnic  meals  in  the  hot  smoke-room  or  to  munch  a 
sandwich  on  the  wind-swept  deck,  having  this  one  ad- 
vantage of  the  enemy :  he  was  a  good  sailor. 

Seeing  Severance  seasick  had  "given  him  back  a  bit 
of  his  own,"  and  made  up  for  a  good  deal,  including 
close  quarters.  Because  a  man  can't  hit  a  foe  when  he's 
down,  however,  Garth  had  let  slip  a  heaven-sent  chance 
for  revenge.  He  refrained  from  jeering  aloud  at  his 
brother  officer's  qualms.  But  was  the  said  officer  grate- 
ful for  the  superhuman  sacrifice?  On  the  contrary! 
To-day's  work  on  deck  was  the  climax.  Garth  had 
heard  and  seen  Severance  sneering  at  him,  as  he  had 
sneered  before.  Sneering  to  men  was  one  thing,  how- 
ever; sneering  to  the  most  beautiful  girl  Garth  had  ever 
seen  was  another. 

Severance's  attempt  to  drive  Garth  from  the  regiment 
by  rendering  the  mess  impossible,  and  by  other  methods 
which  in  contrast  made  schoolboy  ragging  kind,  had 
only  stiffened  the  American's  resolve  to  "stick  it."  Fail- 
ing the  stings  and  pin-pricks  inflicted  by  Severance  as 
ringleader,  and  two  or  three  of  his  followers,  Garth 
would  not  have  desired  to  stay  in  the  British  Army 


38  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

after  the  war,  although  his  father  had  been  an  officer  in 
it.  As  it  was,  though  he  hadn't  yet  settled  the  future, 
he  inclined  to  hold  his  commission  for  awhile,  if  only 
to  "show  those  chaps  they  couldn't  phaze  him."  He  had 
felt  bulldoggy  rather  than  wild  bullish.  But  catching 
a  word  or  two  blown  to  his  ears  by  the  wind  on  deck  to- 
day, he  had  at  the  same  time  caught  fire.  Here  was 
the  limit,  and  down  the  other  side !  He  burned  to  prove 
this  to  Severance  in  some  way  slightly  more  delicate 
than  murder.  In  such  a  mood  he  slammed  into  their 
cabin,  and  heard  a  little  more.  Still  flaming,  he  saw 
the  ginger-beer  bottle  (by  an  irony  of  fate,  Severance's 
bottle),  and  then,  almost  before  he  knew  what  he  was 
doing,  the  thing  was  done.  A  caddish  but  a  luscious 
thing !  He  gloried  in  it.  As  he  stood  at  the  stateroom 
window,  the  emptied  weapon  fizzing  in  his  hand,  it 
struck  Garth  that  he  had  hit  the  nail  on  the  head. 

"That's  it,"  he  said  to  himself,  as  he  watched  Sever- 
ance furiously  sop  his  hair.  "I've  hit  the  nail  on  the 
head!" 

Never  had  he  been  more  pleased  with  the  precision  of 
his  aim,  for  not  a  drop  had  gone  wide  of  the  target.  He 
had  counted  on  his  skill  to  make  a  bull's-eye  or  he  would 
not  have  risked  the  coup.  Of  course,  Severance's 
friends  would  loathe  as  well  as  despise  him;  but  they 
must  admit  that  the  reprisal  was  pat,  and  above  all 
neat.  He  shut  the  window  and  roared.  He  hoped  the 
trio  outside  would  hear  him,  and  he  yearned  to  know 
what  Severance's  next  step  would  be. 

For  this  knowledge  he  had  not  long  to  wait;  but 
when  it  came,  it  brought  disillusion.  Severance  arrived 
promptly,  still  dripping,  to  find  Garth  at  bay,  a  grin  on 
his  face. 

"Your  beer,"  said  V.C.     "I'll  pay  you  for  it" 


REPRISALS— ET  CETERA  39 

He  expected  the  other  to  shout  "You  shall!"  and 
spring  at  him.  Severance  seemed  to  think,  however, 
that  the  dignified  course  was  cold  silence.  "Register- 
ing" scorn  too  glacial  for  language  or  even  action,  he 
gazed  at  Garth  as  if  the  latter  were  a  worm  of  some 
new  and  abominable  species  unknown  to  science  and  be- 
neath classification.  This  effect  produced,  he  turned  to 
the  mirror  and  repaired  ravages  to  his  hair  with  "Honey 
and  Flowers."  The  moment  he  was  his  well-groomed 
self  again,  he  went  out,  having  uttered  not  one  word. 

"Well,  I'm  damned!"  remarked  Garth  aloud.  He 
then  laughed,  also  aloud.  But  there  was  a  flat  sound  in 
his  mirth.  He  felt  like  a  good  hot  fire  quenched  by  a 
shovelful  of  snow,  and  was  not  sure  whether  he  or  Sev- 
erance had  scored.  Vaguely  at  a  loss,  like  a  stray  dog, 
he  took  a  book  to  the  smoking  room,  having  no  ambi- 
tion to  parade  the  deck  cock-o'-the-walk  fashion.  It 
turned  out,  however,  that  he  could  not  read.  He  could 
do  nothing  but  think  of  that  girl — that  beautiful,  beau- 
tiful girl. 

Every  man  grows  up  with  some  ideal,  bright  or  dim, 
of  the  woman  whose  beauty  might  mean  to  him  all  ro- 
mance :  the  woman  of  the  horizon,  of  the  sunrise,  of  the 
bright  foam  of  sea-waves.  The  girl  on  A  deck  of  the 
Britannia  was  Garth's  ideal,  his  "Princess  of  Para- 
dise." 

He  didn't  know  who  she  was,  but  he  meant  to  know. 
Not  that  it  would  do  him  any  good  to  find  out.  She 
was  a  friend  of  Severance,  which  meant  that  there  was  a 
high  wall  round  her  so  far  as  he,  Garth,  was  concerned. 
All  the  same,  he  wouldn't  let  much  grass  grow — or  many 
waves  break — under  his  feet  before  he  was  in  possession 
of  her  name.  This  was  about  all  he  was  ever  likely  to 
have  of  hers !    But  so  much  he  would  have,  soon. 


40  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Presently  a  steward  brought  matches  for  his  pipe. 
"Can  you  tell  me/'  Garth  inquired,  "who  are  the  ladies 
sitting  amidships  on  the  port  side  of  this  deck ;  a  young 
lady  in  a  blue  hat,  with  a  grey  fur  coat,  and  an  older 
woman  in  brown  ?  They  look  as  they'd  be  someone  in 
particular  ?" 

"They  are,  sir,"  replied  the  man  quite  eagerly.  "You 
must  mean  Miss  Sorel  and  her  mother;  they're  with  the 
Earl  of  Severance." 

"That's  right,"  said  Garth.  "I  wonder,  are  they  the 
ones  at  the  Captain's  table." 

"Certain  to  be,  sir,"  the  steward  assured  him. 

Garth  lit  his  pipe,  and  let  the  steward  go  without 
further  questioning.  He  yearned  to  ask  who  the  Sorels 
were,  and  why  it  was  so  certain  they  would  be  in  the 
place  of  honour  at  the  Captain's  table — where  he  might 
have  been,  and  was  not !  But  somehow,  the  thought  of 
pumping  a  steward  for  intimate  details  about  that  girl 
repelled  him.  He  supposed  she  was  "some  swell"  in 
Severance's  set.  Not  since  he  had  enlisted  in  the  Gren- 
adier Guards,  nearly  five  years  ago,  had  he  taken  leave 
in  London.  He  had  been  eight  times  a  "casualty,"  but 
by  luck,  or  ill-luck,  his  wounds  had  not  been  "Blighty- 
wounds."  His  last  leave  he  had  spent  in  Paris,  and  the 
second — one  summer — in  Yorkshire  and  Scotland, 
because  his  father  had  been  a  Yorkshireman  by  birth. 

If  Garth  had  ever  heard  of  Marise  Sorel's  success  in 
New  York  and  London,  the  story  had  gone  in  at  one  ear 
and  out  at  the  other.  It  did  not  occur  to  him  that  the 
Radiant  Dream  might  be  an  actress.  But  her  face 
haunted  him,  got  between  his  eyes  and  his  book  and 
made  his  pipe  go  out,  as  sunlight  is  supposed  to  ex- 
tinguish a  fire. 

He  had  rather  prided  himself  on  these  old  clothes  of 


REPRISALS— ET  CETERA  41 

his,  on  shipboard.  They  were  full  five  yearc  of  age, 
had  been  bought  ready-made  at  Albuquerque,  Arizona, 
for  twenty  dollars,  and  were  damned  comfortable.  Now, 
to  his  shamed  surprise,  he  found  himself  wishing  he 
had  kept  to  khaki,  as  he  had  a  right  to  do.  Severance 
had  called  him  a  "clod-hopper,"  and  he  knew  the  word 
fitted  him  in  that  suit,  a  blamed  sight  better  than  did 
the  suit  itself! 

Well,  it  wasn't  too  late  yet.  He  could  doll  up  in  his 
uniform  any  minute;  he  could  even  claim  his  place  at 
the  Captain's  table,  and  meet  the  Girl.  His  heart  beat 
at  the  thought.  He  made  up  his  mind  he  would  do 
just  that;  and  then  as  quickly  he  changed  it. 

No,  he  might  be  a  bounder,  but  he  wouldn't  be  a  cross 
between  an  ass  and  a  peacock.  He'd  go  on  as  he'd 
begun.  If  there  were  a  laugh  anywhere  at  present,  it 
was  against  Severance.  He  would  do  nothing  to  turn 
it  against  Garth. 

This  resolution  he  clung  to,  despite  occasional  wob- 
blings,  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

•  •••••• 

Garth  had  not  a  "blood  relation"  on  earth,  as  far  as 
he  knew;  but  he  had  an  adopted  mother,  and  he  had 
friends.  These  people  lived  mostly  in  the  West.  He 
meant  to  see  a  little  life  in  New  York  before  going  out 
there,  but  he  did  not  expect  a  soul  in  the  east  to  notice 
his  existence.  It  was  a  surprise  for  him  when  all  the 
reporters  who  swarmed  on  board  the  Britannia  from  the 
tender  made  a  bee-line  for  Major  Garth,  V.C.  Each 
wanted  a  "story,"  and  Garth  didn't  know  what  to  say. 
He  was  too  glad  to  see  the  shores  of  his  adopted  land, 
and  too  good-natured  to  snub  the  humblest,  but  he 
didn't  enjoy  being  interviewed.  He  got  out  of  the 
scrape  as  soon  as  he  could;  but  there  was  another  sur- 


42  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

prise  awaiting  him  on  deck.  He  found  himself  a  hero 
to  the  Custom  House  men ! 

There  was  no  chance  of  finding  out  what  had  become 
of  Miss  Sorel,  but  as  the  reporters  had  rallied  round 
her,  and  Lord  Severance  also,  Garth  was  reasonably 
sure  to  read  later  on  who  the  girl  was ;  where  she  was 
going;  whether  or  no  she  were  engaged  to  his  noble 
brother  officer;  and,  indeed,  even  many  more  pic- 
turesque facts  than  she  knew  about  herself. 

It  was  after  two  o'clock  when  he  arrived  at  the  Hotel 
Belmore,  where  he  had  stayed  five  years  ago  on  the  eve 
of  sailing  for  England  with  his  invention.  He  was 
hungry,  and  aimed  straight  for  the  restaurant;  but 
it  appeared  that  the  manager  had  assigned  to  the 
only  American  V.C.  a  suite  with  a  private  salon  as 
well  as  bedroom  and  bath.  A  special  luncheon  for  the 
Major  would  be  served  there,  with  the  compliments  of 
the  directors.  Garth  could  only  accept  with  dazed 
thanks;  and  feeling  like  a  newly-awakened  Christo- 
pher Sly,"  he  entered  a  room  decorated  with  flowers  and 
flags.  As  he  devoured  delicious  food,  the  New  York 
evening  papers  were  handed  to  him  by  a  smiling  waiter 
who  had  read  the  headings. 

Yes,  there  he  was,  served  up  hot  to  the  public  with 
sauce  piquante!  Lord  knew  how  the  fellows  had  got 
his  photograph !  Must  be  from  some  snapshot  caught 
by  a  Daily  Mirror  man  in  London,  and  sent  over  to 
New  York  for  use  to-day.  What  a  great  lout  he 
looked !  .  .  .  And — gee !  if  there  wasn't  old  Severance 
in  another  photo  down  under  his.  Wouldn't  his 
earlship  be  wild  ? 

Garth  chuckled,  and  then  suddenly  choked.  A  gulp 
of  the  champagne,  in  which  he'd  been  pressed  to  drink 
to  his  own  health,  had  gone  the  wrong  way.     Her 


REPRISALS— ET  CETERA  43 

picture  had  caught  his  eye,  in  an  adjoining  column  of 
the  Evening  World,  next  to  the  portrait  of  Severance. 
"Our  Own  Marise  Comes  Home/'  was  the  legend  in  big 
black  type  above.  Oh!  She  was  American,  not  Eng- 
lish !  Must  be  an  heiress  if  that  chap  intended  to  marry 
her.  Severance  was  supposed  to  be  poor,  for  a  peer; 
had  been  a  pauper  till  the  death  of  an  uncle  and  three 
cousins  in  the  war  gave  him  the  title.  .  .  .  What  ?  an 
actress ! .  Then,  it  wasn't  true  about  her  and  Severance 
— qouldn't  be  true !  That  glorious  girl  was  free !  And, 
to  judge  from  the  way  New  York  was  treating  him, 
John  Garth,  V.C.?  was  Somebody,  too.  He  was  put 
above  Miss  Sorel's  pal  Severance  in  the  papers — every 
one  of  the  papers ! 

Eagerly  Garth  read  about  "The  Spring  Song"  and 
"Dolores,"  the  great  emotional  part  Marise  Sorel  had 
created,  and  was  now  to  revive  in  New  York.  It  did 
not  directly  interest  him  that  the  whole  of  the  old  cast 
would  support  the  star,  but  it  did  matter  that  this  fact 
reduced  the  need  for  rehearsals  to  a  minimum.  The 
play  would  open  at  Belloc's  Theatre  next  week,  and  it 
was  announced  that  for  many  days  the  house  had  been 
entirely  sold  out.  There  wasn't  a  seat  to  be  had  for 
love  or  money.  "But  I  bet  I  get  one  for  both !"  Garth 
said  to  himself.  "A  seat  for  every  performance."  Also 
he  thought  of  something  else  he  would  do.  The  thing 
might  not  help  him  to  make  Miss  Sorel's  acquaintance, 
but  it  would  satisfy  his  soul.  And  it  would  be  worth 
all  his  back  pay  as  a  British  officer  if  he  could  carry  out 
the  plan. 


CHAPTEK  V 


ANONYMOUS 


OH,  Mums,  I'm  so  happy!"  purred  Marise,  as  she 
sank  into  a  chair,  physically  spent,  spiritually 
elated. 

It  was  in  her  dressing-room  at  the  theatre — the  mar- 
vellous dressing-room  which  Belloc  had  engaged  Herte 
to  re-decorate  as  a  tribute  and  a  surprise  to  +he  star. 
The  stage  curtain  had  rung  down  on  the  last  act,  after 
eighteen  recalls  and  a  little  laughing,  hysterical  speech 
from  Dolores.  Sheridan  and  Belloc  had  both  kissed 
her;  and  everyone  had  cried,  and  her  mother  had  torn 
her  from  clinging  arms,  to  shut  the  dressing-room  door 
upon  a  dozen  faces. 

Sudden  peace  followed  clamour.  There  was  not  a 
sound.  The  air  was  sweet  with  the  breath  of  a  thousand 
flowers.  Celine  moved,  softly  about,  with  stolid  face. 
Mrs.  Sorel  beamed. 

"Well,  yes,  dear;  I  do  think  you  may  be  happy  now," 
she  vouchsafed. 

Marise  caught  the  "second  meaning" — the  little  more 
than  met  the  ear — hiding  in  her  mother's  words.  Mums 
hadn't  been  easy  about  Severance.  She'd  thought  he 
had  "something  on  his  mind."  She  had  even  been  afraid 
that,  although  he  was  following  the  girl  he  loved  from 
London  to  New  York,  he  didn't  mean  marriage.  She 
had  feared,  and  almost  expected,  that  he  might  break 
to  Marise  the  news  of  his  engagement  to  another  woman 

44 


ANONYMOUS  45 

— a  very  different  woman  from  the  pretty  actress.  But 
that  time  of  Mum's  depression  had  been  on  shipboard. 
Severance  had  "broken"  no  news.  He  had  been  more 
devoted  than  ever  before.  He  had  curtailed  his  official 
business  in  Washington,  and  rushed  back  to  New  York 
for  the  first  night  of  "The  Song,"  so  now  Mrs.  Sorel 
began  to  hope  that  for  once  her  "instinct"  had  been  a 
deceiving  voice. 

"Yes,  happy  about  everything,"  she  added,  so  that 
Marise  might  understand  without  the  maid  sharing  her 
enlightenment. 

"I  am,  just  that!"  agreed  Marise,  stealing  time 
to  breathe  before  Celine  should  take  off  Dolores'  "bed- 
room-scene" dress. 

She  looked  round  the  room.  It  had  been  decorated 
by  the  Russian-French  artist,  Herte  (who  had  never 
seen  her),  to  suit  Sargent's  portrait  which  Belloc  had 
lent  him  to  study.  In  the  girl's  opinion  it  did  not  suit 
her  at  all,  unless  she  were  in  reality  a  tigress  camou- 
flaged to  represent  a  sheaf  of  lilies.  But  evidently  that 
was  what  Herte  thought  she  was,  and  his  conception  of 
her  temperament  made  the  girl  feel  subtle  and  mysteri- 
ous. She  adored  feeling  like  that,  and  she  adored 
Herte's  tawny  orange  splashes  on  violent  blues,  and  his 
sombre  blacks  and  dazzling  whites  and  lemon  yellows, 
which  somehow  did  not  fade  her  sunlight  fairness. 
People  knew  about  this  room,  for  descriptions  and 
photographs  of  it  had  appeared  in  all  the  papers  since 
she  and  Mums  landed ;  consequently  everyone  had  sent 
flowers  to  match  Herte's  famous  colourings. 

There  were  silver  azaleas,  black  tulips,  queer  scarlet 
roses,  Japanese  tiger  lilies,  weird  magenta  orchids,  and 
purple  pinks.  Severance  had  sent  blue  lilies — the  blue 
that  Marise  loved,  and  called  "the  colour  of  her  soul." 


46  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

The  lilies  had  been  the  best  of  the  huge  collection,  until 
the  Exciting  Thing  came — the  thing  accompanied  by  no 
letter,  no  card.  Towards  this  object  the  eyes  of  Marise 
travelled.  She  had  been  "intrigued"  by  it  the  whole 
evening,  whenever  she  had  time  to  think,  and  puzzle 
over  its  charm  and  mystery. 

"It"  was  a  table;  a  small,  round  tea-table  of  rich  red 
mahogany  with  a  well  in  its  centre  for  flowers,  and 
small  holes  in  a  line  circling  its  edge  for  the  same  pur- 
pose. These  receptacles  were  filled  and  hidden  with  the 
largest,  purplest,  and  most  fragrant  violets  Marise  had 
ever  seen,  and  their  amethyst  tones,  massed  against  the 
dark,  rose-brown  wood,  produced  an  exquisite  effect. 
Marise  believed  herself  an  up-to-date  young  woman,  and 
her  Persian  dressing-room  in  London  had  rivalled  Lily 
Brayton's  Chinese  room  during  the  run  of  "Chu  Chin 
Chow."  But  she  had  never  heard  of  such  a  design  as 
this  in  tables.  It  must  be  the  newest  of  the  new,  and  in- 
vented by  a  great  artist,  she  thought.  In  fear  of  seem- 
ing ignorant,  she  had  asked  no  questions  of  anyone, 
hoping  to  glean  information  by  luck:  and  vanity,  as 
usual  with  her,  had  its  own  reward. 

"By  George,  who  sent  you  Herte' s  latest?"  Belloc 
had  exclaimed,  when  he  bounced  into  her  room  before 
the  first  act  to  see  if  his  star  were  "going  strong." 

Marise  had  to  admit  that  she  didn't  know.  But  she 
put  on  an  air  of  awareness  as  to  Herte.  This  was  the 
sort  of  thing  her  mother  taught  her :  to  seem  innocent, 
but  never  ignorant — especially  of  anything  "smart." 
Mrs.  Sorel  had  suggested  that  Herte  himself  migjit  have 
contributed  the  lovely  specimen  of  his  work,  to  complete 
the  decoration  of  the  room.  Belloc,  however,  had 
vetoed  this  idea.  If  there  were  no  accompanying  poem, 
or  at  least  a  card,  Herte  wasn't  guilty.     He  was  not  a 


ANONYMOUS  47 

young  man  who  bothered  to  blush  unseen.  So  that 
hypothesis  was  "off" ;  and  Marise  could  think  of  no 
one  among  her  acquaintances  likely  to  spend  so  much 
cash  without  getting  credit. 

Belloc  was  giving  a  supper  for  her  after  the 
theatre,  and  Herte  was  there;  a  dark,  haggardly  beau- 
tiful young  man  who  looked  as  if  he  had  detached  him- 
self from  one  of  his  own  wall  decorations.  Belloc  had 
placed  him  next  the  star,  not  knowing  whether  Marise 
were  really  engaged  to  Lord  Severance  or  not ;  and  the 
first  question  the  girl  asked  was  about  the  table. 

"Ah,  you  have  my  beloved  violet-table !"  he  said,  look- 
ing at  her  in  the  way  he  had  with  beautiful  young 
women :  stripping  her  with  his  eyes  and  dressing  her  all 
over  again  in  a  gown  of  his  own  creation.  "I  am  glad 
—glad." 

"You  didn't  know?" 

He  shook  his  head  until  a  black  lock  fell  over  his  pale 
forehead.  "I  did  not.  It  was  finished  by  the  glorified 
cabinet-maker  I  employ:  it  appeared  in  the  window  of 
my  place.  You  must  see  my  place,  now  your  rehearsals 
are  over !  You  will  want  beauty  to  rest  your  mind — 
and  you  will  want  Me  to  design  your  dresses !  An  hour 
later  the  table  was  snapped  up — gone  from  me  forever." 

"Ah,  but  who  snapped  it  ?" 

Herte  looked  blank.  "Your  admiring  friend,  who 
knew  it  belonged,  by  right  of  beauty,  to  you." 

"Thanks !  But  I  want  you  to  tell  me  his — or  her — 
name." 

"Are  you  not  acquainted  with  so  much  of  him  ?" 

"I'm  not.  And  I'm  dying  to  be,  because  the  gentle- 
man is  anonymous — a  great  unknown!" 

"I  am  sure  he  is  great,  as  a  judge  of  art  and  ladies. 
But  that  is  all  I  am  sure  of,  beautiful  Dolores." 


48  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Monsieur  Herte,  you  are  hiding  his  secret !" 

"I  could  hide  no  secret  from  you.  I  will  tell  you  all 
I  know.  A  boy  messenger  bought  the  table.  A  mil- 
lionaire's boy  messenger,  perhaps!  My  manager  in- 
formed me  what  had  happened.  \7e  guessed  at  once 
there  was  a  mystery." 

"Couldn't  you  find  out?"  Marise  persisted. 

Herte  shrugged  his  sloping  shoulders.  "Beyond  a 
boy  messenger  no  man  can  go.  He  keeps  the  gate  with 
a  flaming  sword.  But  you  will  find  out  some  day. 
Meanwhile,  bo  content.  You  have  the  latest  creation  of 
my  brain — of  my  heart.  At  present  it  is  the  one  thing 
of  its  kind  in  existence." 

Mrs.  Sorel  asked  Severance  if  he  had  sent  the  table, 
which,  she  explained,  Marise  had  found  in  her  dressing- 
room  on  arriving  there.  It  had  been  brought  to  the 
theatre  by  two  boy  messengers,  full  of  flowers  (not  the 
boys,  but  the  table),  and  no  word  had  been  left  whence 
it  came.  Severance,  bitterly  jealous  of  the  secret  gift 
(which  had,  so  to  speak,  taken  all  the  blue  paint  off  his 
Persian  lilies),  would  gladly  have  claimed  credit  had  he 
dared.  But  the  real  giver  might  announce  himself  at 
any  moment,  and  be  able  to  prove  his  bona  fides:  so 
Severance  made  a  virtue  of  necessity.  Belloc's  supper- 
party  was  a  "frost"  for  him,  though  he  sat  by  the  second 
prettiest  girl.  He  hated  Herte  and  the  others,  espe- 
cially a  millionaire  member  of  New  York's  "Four  Hun- 
dred," who  was  financially  interested  in  Belloc's 
schemes — and  in  his  leading  ladies. 

Severance  would  have  given  anything — short  of  his 
title  and  estates,  and  such  money  as  came  with  them — 
to  snatch  the  girl  from  all  the  men,  who  would  go  on 
admiring  and  making  love  to  her  when  he  was  far  away. 
He  did  not  know  how  he  could  bear  to  turn  his  back  and 


ANONYMOUS  49 

leave  heir  to  these  Americans,  who  had  so  much  money 
and  so  much  "cheek."  He  felt  as  if  he  were  throwing 
her  to  the  lions — this  exquisite  morsel  which  he  coveted 
for  himself,  but  was  unlikely  to  get  on  the  terms  he 
could  offer.  Almost,  he  wished  that  he  had  told  her  the 
truth  in  London,  and  said  good-bye  to  her  then.  Almost, 
but  not  quite:  for  he  simply  had  not  been  able  to  let  her 
go  like  that.  He  had  to  be  with  her :  he  had  to  see  the 
sort  of  men  she  would  gather  round  her  on  the  other 
side  of  the  world. 

Well,  he  had  come;  and  he  had  seen;  and  he  had 
made  things  harder  for  himself  instead  of  easier.  He 
did  not  know  what  he  should  do  next.  An  arrange- 
ment, a  compromise,  must  be  thought  of.  When  he 
spoke,  he  must  have  something  to  propose — some  alter- 
native or  other.  But  what  under  heaven,  or  in  hell,  it 
could  be,  he  had  no  clear  inspiration  yet. 

Marise  ordered  the  violet-table  to  be  taken  from  the 
theatre  to  the  Plaza  Hotel,  where  she  and  her  mother 
had  a  suite.  She  thought  it  would  give  her  more 
pleasure  there,  where  much  of  her  time  was  passed,  and 
the  wonderful  violets  had  not  lost  their  freshness :  they 
were  so  firm  and  vital  that  they  looked  as  if  they  would 
never  fade.  But  on  the  second  night  of  "The  Song," 
when  Marise  arrived  in  her  dressing-room,  another 
anonymous  gift  awaited  her. 

It  was  smaller  than  the  table,  but  not  less  original ; 
a  black  bowl,  half  full  of  water  bright  and  pale  green  as 
aquamarines,  on  the  surface  of  which  floated  three  pink 
pond-lilies.  The  bowl  stood  on  the  star's  dressing-table, 
and,  switching  on  the  electric  lights,  a  gleam  as  of 
drowned  emeralds  sparkled  under  the  lilies.  Marise 
cried  out  in  delight,  and  ran  to  look  for  a  card.  This 
time  he  would  reveal  himself !     (She  knew  it  was  "he," 


50  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

and  that  it  was  the  same  man  who  had  sent  the  table.) 
But  no.  There  was  neither  card  nor  note.  Messenger 
boys  had  brought  the  bowl.  They  had  driven  up  in  a 
taxi.  If  only  Marise  had  dreamed  of  receiving  a  second 
gift  from  the  same  source,  she  would  have  watched — or 
even  employed  a  detective.  She  was  so  excited  and 
curious  that  she  feared  for  her  acting  that  night. 

"With  the  bowl  and  the  lilies  had  come  a  large  jar  of 
crystals  for  tinting  the  water:  green,  glittering  lumps, 
like  precious  stones  from  Aladdin's  Cave,  and  that  was 
precisely  the  label  on  the  jar  of  jewels:  "Aladdin's 
Cave."  Marise  was  childishly  thrilled.  When  Belloc 
peeped  in,  she  showed  her  treasures,  and  learned  that 
"Aladdin's  Cave"  was  the  name  chosen  by  a  queer 
artist,  new,  but  famous  already  for  his  exhibition-shop 
in  a  cellar  of  that  Bohemian  haunt  known  as  Green- 
wich Village. 

Next  morning  the  girl  went  there  in  a  taxi:  and 
when  she  had  bought  exotic  enamels,  and  transparent 
vases  filled  with  synthetic  sapphires,  she  told  "Aladdin" 
about  the  bowl.  Like  Herte,  he  shook  his  head.  He 
was  but  another  man  who  "could  not  go  beyond  a  Dis- 
trict messenger  boy." 

The  stage  door-keeper  was  now  warned  to  find  out 
what  he  could,  if  another  anonymous  gift  appeared. 
Also,  Celine  was  sent  early  to  the  theatre.  Marise 
could  not,  however,  quite  bring  herself  to  engage  a  de- 
tective. She  was  tempted  to  do  so,  and  urged  by  her 
mother,  who  had  visions  of  a  mysterious  millionaire 
ready  to  take  the  place  of  Severance  if  the  Englishman 
failed  after  all.  But  the  girl  felt  that  to  set  sleuth- 
hounds  on  its  track  would  kill  romance.  It  would,  she 
told  Mums,  be  like  deliberately  rubbing  the  bloom  off 
hothouse  grapes  before  you  ate  them.    And  as  it  turned 


ANONYMOUS  31 

out,  she  was  glad  she  had  listened  to  sentiment ;  for  on 
the  third  night  her  only  offerings  were  chocolates  and 
flowers  ticketed  conspicuously  with  their  givers'  names. 

This  was  like  a  too  abrupt  ending  to  a  fairy  tale. 
But,  after  all,  it  was  only  the  end  of  a  chapter.  On  the 
fourth  night  a  long  blue-and-silver  box  lay  across  two 
chairs  in  the  dressing-room.  It  looked  like  a  box  from 
a  smart  dressmaker,  though  no  dressmaker's  name  was 
visible.  "Has  Mademoiselle  ordered  anything  ¥'  Celine 
inquired,  as  she  untied  the  ribbon-fastenings. 

No,  Mademoiselle  had  ordered  nothing  that  day — at 
least  nothing  for  the  theatre.  She  gave  a  little  gasp  as 
the  Frenchwoman  removed  the  box  cover  and  a  layer  of 
silver-stencilled  blue  tissue  paper.  Underneath  Aimed  a 
pale  blue  cloud  which  Marise  snatched  up  and  pro- 
nounced to  be  a  "boudoir  gown."  It  was  made  from 
a  material  which  fashion  names  mousseline  de  soie  one 
year  and  something  else  another.  It  was  the  blue  of 
bluebells,  banded  with  swansdown  and  embroidered 
with  silver  thistles.  Altogether,  it  might  have  been  cre- 
ated expressly  for  Miss  Sorel  by  an  admiring  genius. 

"From  Herte !"  exclaimed  Mums. 

But  Marise  knew  better,  and  would  pit  her  own 
"instinct"  against  her  mother's  any  day.  "No,  from 
Him,"  she  pronounced.  "If  this  goes  on  much  longer 
without  my  finding  out  who  He  is,  I  shall  simply 
perish." 

And  it  did  go  on :  not  night  after  night,  but  stopping, 
and  beginning  again  just  as  she  thought  the  giver's 
invention  exhausted  or  his  pockets  empty.  It  went  on 
for  ten  days,  until  Marise  had  received,  in  addition  to 
the  three  first  gifts,  an  ancient  Italian  mirror  in  a 
carved  silver  frame;  an  exquisite  wax  doll,  modelled 
and  dressed  to  represent  herself  as  "Dolores"  in  the 


52  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

third  act  of  "The  Spring  Song,"  and  an  old  Sevres  box 
filled  with  crystallised  violets — evidently  his  favoured 
flower. 

"He  must  be  rich,  or  else  he's  poor,  and  so  in  love 
that  he's  absolutely  beggaring  himself  for  you,"  said 
Mrs.  Sorel. 

Marise  volunteered  no  opinion.  But  secretly  she 
preferred  the  second  hypothesis.  She  was  used  to  rich 
men ;  but  no  girl  is  ever  really  used  to  Romance.  The 
mystery  thrilled  and  delighted  her,  and  bored  Severance 
to  distraction.  He  realised  that,  if  he  said  to  the  girl 
what  he  had  to  say  while  this  spell  was  upon  her,  she 
might  let  him  go  with  hardly  a  pang,  instead  of  clinging 
to  him  at  almost  any  price.  So  he  did  not  say  it.  He 
waited,  and  sent  several  cables  to  his  mother's  half- 
brother,  Constantino  Ionides,  one  of  the  richest  bankers 
in  Europe.  In  the  first  of  these  telegrams  he  stated  that 
he  had  influenza,  and  might  not  be  allowed  to  travel  for 
several  weeks,  but,  as  soon  as  he  could,  he  would  return 
to  London.  This,  because  he  had  come  to  a  certain 
understanding  with  his  half-uncle  before  undertaking 
the  American  "mission,"  and  because  Mr.  Ionides 
unluckily  knew  that  the  unimportant  mission  was  now 
wound  up. 

At  the  end  of  ten  days  the  girl  decided  upon  a  des- 
perate step,  for  she  felt  that  "Dolores"  as  well  as  Marise 
Sorel  was  beginning  to  suffer  from  curiosity  deferred. 
She  forgot  to  take  a  cue  on  the  night  of  the  doll ;  and  at 
home,  after  she  had  been  in  bed  an  hour,  she  suddenly 
sat  up  and  switched  on  the  light.  On  a  table  within 
reach  of  her  hand  were  paper  and  envelopes,  and  a  gold 
fountain-pen  given  her  by  Severance.  Quickly  she 
wrote  out  a  paragraph  which  she  had  composed  in  the 
sleepless  hours;  and  without  a  word  to  Mums  (sure  to 


ANONYMOUS  53 

disapprove)  she  gave  it  very  early  next  morning  to 
Celine  with  instructions. 

That  evening,  in  some  of  the  New  York  papers,  and 
the  following  day  in  all  those  which  had  "personal" 
columns,  her  paragraph  appeared.  "Dolores  thanks  the 
anonymous  friend  who  has  sent  her  six  charming  gifts 
in  ten  days,  and  begs  that  he  or  she  will  make  an  ap- 
pointment to  call  at  her  hotel  as  soon  as  possible,  in 
order  that  Dolores  may  express  her  pleasure  and  grati- 
tude by  word  of  mouth." 

When  Marise  read  this  appeal  in  print  her  heart  beat 
in  her  throat,  and  she  was  dreadfully  afraid  that  her 
mother  or  Severance  might  happen  to  glance  down  that 
column.  But  she  was  even  more  afraid  that  the  person 
to  whom  it  was  addressed  might  not. 


CHAPTER  VI 

ON  SUNDAY  AT  THBEE 

OH,  by  the  way,  Miss  Marks,"  said  Marise,  "you 
needn't  trouble  to  read  my  letters  this  morning. 
I — er — slept  badly,  and  I'm  up  at  such  an  unearthly 
hour,  I  might  as  well  go  through  them  myself." 

She  spoke  from  the  doorway  between  her  bedroom 
and  the  salon,  where  Miss  Marks,  her  secretary,  was 
taking  off  gloves  and  hat  before  getting  to  work;  and 
she  had  on  the  boudoir  gown  of  mousseline  de  soie  and 
swansdown  sent  by  the  Great  Unknown  a  week  ago. 
This  was  the  first  time  she  had  worn  it,  and  Miss 
Marks's  eyes  sent  forth  a  flash  which  might  mean  ad- 
miration or  jealousy,  or  both.  Marise  diagnosed  the 
emotion  as  jealousy.  If  she  were  right,  she  was  sorry 
for  the  girl,  who,  though  handsome,  could  not  compare 
with  her,  and  who,  though  very  intelligent,  was  only  a 
stenographer,  at  about  twenty-five :  two  years  older  than 
she,  who  was  already  a  brilliant  star ! 

This  thought  was  but  a  flash,  brief  as  the  flash  in  the 
secretary's  eyes,  for  instantly  the  mind  of  Marise  turned 
to  the  letters.  Thank  goodness  she  was  in  time! 
Another  three  minutes,  and  she  might  have  been  too 
late.  Miss  Marks  would  by  then  have  begun  her  first 
task  of  the  day:  opening  letters  and  sorting  them, 
placing  requests  for  autographs  and  photos  in  one  pile, 
pleas  for  money  in  a  second,  demands  for  advice  or  help 
about  going  on  the  stage  in  a  third,  and  so  on.     Who 

54 


ON  SUNDAY  AT  THREE  55 

could  tell  if  the  one  envelope  whose  contents  no  eye  but 
Marise  Sorel's  should  see  mightn't  lie  at  the  very  top  ? 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  it  did  not  lie  at  the  top.  It  was 
nearer  the  bottom,  and  long  before  she  found  it  Marise 
had  begun  to  fear  that  it  didn't  exist 

The  trying  part  was  that  the  envelopes  told  her 
nothing.  She  had  to  cut  or  tear  open  each  one,  unless 
she  recognised  the  handwriting  of  the  address,  and 
could  then  throw  it  aside  till  later.  She  went  through 
the  business  curled  up  on  a  sofa,  sitting  on  one  foot, 
which  showed  among  snowdrifts  of  swansdown.  It  was 
a  stockingless  foot,  thrust  into  a  silver  mule  lined  with 
blue  velvet;  and  her  skin  was  satin  smooth  and  creamy 
pink  as  the  inside  of  a  conch  shell.  Miss  Marks  noticed 
this,  and  noticed  also  how  long  and  thick  was  the  plait 
of  yellow-brown  hair  that  dangled  over  the  sofa-back, 
its  curling  end  within  a  few  inches  of  the  floor.  She 
smiled  faintly  as  she  saw  how  fast  her  employer  worked, 
and  how  she  tossed  the  letters  aside  after  a  fevered 
glance  at  each.  Marise  was  quite  right.  Miss  Marks 
was  very  intelligent!  She  knew,  almost  as  well  as  if 
she  had  been  told  the  whole  story,  just  why  Miss  Sorel 
had  got  up  at  so  "unearthly  an  hour"  this  morning. 

"Ah,  now  she's  found  the  one  she  didn't  want  me  to 
see !"  the  dark  girl  said  to  herself,  as  the  face  of  Marise 
turned  suddenly  pink,  and  bent  over  a  letter  which  she 
read  through  twice  from  beginning  to  end.  Then,  lest 
she  should  be  caught  staring,  Miss  Marks  began  to 
arrange  her  newly-sharpened  pencils  and  the  writing- 
pad  on  which  she  would  take  down,  in  shorthand,  letters 
dictated  by  Miss  Sorel. 

She  need  not,  however,  have  troubled  herself  with 
these  elaborate  precautions.  Miss  Sorel  was  interested 
in  and  puzzled  by  this  handsome  young  Jewess  with  the 


56  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

burning  eyes  and  wet-coral  lips;  but  for  the  moment 
Miss  Marks's  very  existence  was  forgotten. 

The  letter  had  come,  as  Marise  hoped  it  might,  on 
this  the  second  day  of  her  advertisement ;  but  the  mys- 
tery remained  unsolved.  Indeed,  it  was  purposely  kept 
up,  for  the  thick  parchment  paper  had  neither  initial 
nor  address.  The  few  words  on  the  first  page  were  un- 
signed, and  only  one  secret  was  given  away:  but  to 
Marise  this  was  of  great  importance.  The  strong,  black 
handwriting  was  certainly  that  of  a  man.  She  would 
have  turned  sick  with  chagrin  at  sight  of  a  woman's 
penmanship. 

"It  is  I  who  have  to  thank  you,  not  you  me,"  she 
read.  "You  are  very  kind  to  invite  me  to  call,  and  say 
I  must  come  soon.  I  will  take  you  at  your  word.  Un- 
less I  hear  to  the  contrary  through  a  second  'personal' 
in  the  New  York  Record,  I  will  ask  for  you  at  the 
Plaza  Hotel  at  three  o'clock  next  Sunday  afternoon." 

This  was  all,  and  Marise  hardly  knew  whether  to  be 
pleased  or  disappointed  with  the  brief  simplicity  of  her 
anonymous  admirer.  He,  whose  original  ideas  in 
presents  had  made  her  imagine  him  the  most  modern 
and  mundane  of  men,  expressed  himself  on  paper  rather 
like  a  shy,  old-fashioned  schoolboy.  A  dampening 
doubt  oozed  into  the  girl's  mind.  What  if  he  hadn't 
picked  out  those  wonderful  things  himself?  What  if 
he  had  got  some  woman  to  choose  them?  But  even  a 
doubt — a  piercing,  new  doubt — had  its  fascination. 
And  after  Sunday  it  would  be  gone  for  ever.  She 
would  know  the  worst — or  best — of  her  Mystery  Man. 

On  Sunday  afternoons  she  and  her  mother  were  "at 
home"  to  their  friends,  from  four  to  six ;  He  proposed 
coming  at  three,  however,  and  he  was  sure  to  be  prompt 


ON  SUNDAY  AT  THREE  57 

to  the  moment.  That  ought  to  give  an  hour  before 
extraneous  people  began  to  pour  in.  But — what  about 
Mums?  Marise  concentrated  her  mind  upon  that 
pressing  problem. 

Mums  was  as  curious  as  she  concerning  the  unknown. 
But  Mums,  though  an  absolute  trump  and  a  darling, 
was  the  most  conventional  woman  on  earth.  Just 
because  she  and  Marise  were  not  born  to  the  high  sphere 
they  now  adorned,  Mums  was  determined  that  neither 
should  be  guilty  of  the  smallest  act  unworthy  of — at 
least — a  countess.  Naturally,  as  Mums  herself  would 
admit,  if  you  were  already  a  countess,  you  could  per- 
haps afford  to  do  what  you  pleased :  and  to  judge  from 
"smart  society"  columns  many  countesses  availed 
themselves  to  the  full  of  their  prerogatives.  Marise 
might  soon  be  a  countess ;  and  if  so,  Mums  would  cease 
to  dictate  from  the  rules  of  an  etiquette  book ;  but  until 
that  day  those  keen  brown  eyes  needed  no  lorgnettes  to 
watch  a  daughter's  doings. 

After  a  few  minutes'  reflection,  the  girl  decided  that 
she  would  not  confess  to  Mums  what  she  had  done.  It 
would  mean  a  scolding  as  a  first  instalment,  and  a  serial 
continued  day  by  day  of  gentle,  motherly  nagging. 
Marise  loved  her  parent,  but  she  hated  to  be  nagged. 
No.  Mums  must  somehow  be  whisked  out  of  the  way 
before  three  o'clock  next  Sunday,  and  kept  out  of  it 
long  enough  for  an  understanding  to  be  reached  with 
Him. 

Of  course,  Marise  said  to  herself,  she  wouldn't  tell  a 
fib.  She  would  just  explain  frankly  (she  could  see  how 
she  would  look,  her  eyes  very  blue  and  big,  being  frank 
with  Him!)  that  she  hadn't  dared  tell  anyone,  even  her 
mother,  about  the  advertisement  And  she  would  beg 
him  to  "help  her  out"  when  she — er — made  it  seem  aa 


58  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

if  he'd  merely  written  to  say  he  would  call  unless  he 
heard  to  the  contrary.  By  that  time  she  would  know 
his  name,  so  the  thing  could  be  managed  easily,  and 
Mums  never  suspect  to  what  lengths  she  had  gone.  As 
for  Severance,  the  coast  would  be  clear  of  him  on  Sun- 
day till  long  after  three.  Dunstan  Belloc  was  giving  a 
"stag"  luncheon  that  day,  at  one-thirty,  and  she  had 
persuaded  Tony  against  his  will  to  accept.  But 
Mums  ?  How  dispose  of  her  ?  Suddenly  a  bright  idea 
swam  to  the  rescue. 

Marise  slipped  the  Unknown's  letter  into  a  pocket 
disguised  as  a  bunch  of  silver  thistles.  Then,  with 
large,  innocent  eyes,  she  turned  to  her  secretary,  "Oh, 
Miss  Marks !"  she  exclaimed.  And  being  an  actress,  it 
occurred  to  her  that  the  young  woman  addressed  was 
surprisingly  absorbed  in  removing  lead-pencil  dust  from 
her  manicured  fingers.  If  she — Marise — had  been 
secretly  studying  Miss  Marks's  profile  or  back  hair,  she 
would  have  been  equally  absent-minded  if  addressed! 
She  wondered  for  the  fiftieth  time  whether  it  was  a 
coincidence  that  Miss  Marks  had  called  on  the  manager 
of  the  Plaza  the  very  day  after  the  Sorels  had  asked 
him  to  find  a  private  secretary. 

At  first,  when  Marise  saw  how  handsome  the  girl  was, 
and  heard  that  she'd  "hoped  Miss  Sorel  might  want 
someone,"  the  wary  young  actress  feared  that  Miss 
Marks  wished  to  go  on  the  stage.  But  now  the  stenog- 
rapher had  been  coming  to  the  Plaza  each  morning  for 
a  week,  and  had  not  thrown  out  such  a  hint.  She  was, 
indeed,  entirely  business-like,  and  possessed  of  good 
references.  Still,  the  fact  remained  that  she  had  never 
before  applied  to  the  manager  of  this  hotel;  and  her 
appearance  had  been  apropos  as  that  of  the  sacrificial 
sheep  caught  in  the  bushes.    Besides,  Marise  had  often 


ON  SUNDAY  AT  THREE  59 

observed  that  odd,  appreciative  flame  in  the  blaek  eyes, 
as  if  Miss  Marks,  were  more  interested  than  a  secretary 
need  be  in  her  employer. 

"Yes,  Miss  Sorel?"  the  dark  girl  responded.  "Would 
you  like  me  to  take  dictation  ?" 

"Not  yet,  thanks,"  said  Marise.  "I  haven't  had  my 
bath  or  breakfast,  and  I'm  hungry.  But  I've  thought 
of  something.  Mother  and  I  were  so  excited  about  that 
Polish  boy-dressmaker  genius  you  were  talking  of  yes- 
terday. He  sounds  wonderful ;  and,  as  he's  only  begin- 
ning, I  suppose  he's  not  choked  with  orders.  He  might 
do  some  work  for  me  in  a  hurry  ?" 

"I  think  he'd  sit  up  at  night  and  go  without  meals  by 
day  to  work  for  you,"  replied  Miss  Marks.  "It  would 
be  such  an  advertisement.  And  he  loves  working  for 
pretty  people." 

"Well,  I  love  helping  geniuses."  Marise  modestly 
accepted  the  compliment.  "Didn't  you  say  his  flat  is 
on  your  floor  ?" 

Miss  Marks  answered  that  this  was  the  case.  Valinski 
would  move  to  a  fashionable  neighbourhood  some  day. 
At  present  his  talent  budded  in  85th  Street. 

"I  wish  I  could  go  to  him  myself,"  sighed  Marise. 
"I  can't  now,  for  I'm  so  hard-worked  and  tired.  But  I 
thought  mother  might  take  a  taxi  after  lunch  next 
Sunday  and  choose  a  design  for  a  tea-gown — his  spe- 
cialty, you  said.  Would  he  see  her  on  Sunday — about 
a  quarter  to  three,  so  she  could  get  back  for  her 
friends?" 

Miss  Marks  was  certain  of  Valinski's  consent.  She 
would  come  for  Mrs.  Sorel,  if  that  would  suit,  and  take 
her  to  the  dressmaker.  Marise  thought  it  would  suit: 
and  Mums,  arriving  at  that  moment  dressed  for  the  day, 
an  appointment  was  made. 


60  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

The  life  of  Marise  Sorel  was  so  full,  the  pattern  of 
each  day  so  gaily  embroidered  with  emotions  and  inci- 
dents, that  she  was  surprised  at  her  own  excitement. 
She  did  not,  however,  try  to  quench  it.  She  loved  to 
feel  that,  in  spite  of  the  adulation  she  received,  one  side 
of  her  nature  was  as  fresh,  as  unspoiled,  as  a  child's. 
And  she  was  as  guiltily  pleased  as  a  child  when,  at 
twenty  minutes  before  three  on  Sunday  afternoon,  her 
mother  went  down  to  a  waiting  taxi  with  Zelie  Marks. 
Patronising  the  Pole  and  choosing  a  design  would  eat 
up  an  hour,  Marise  had  calculated. 

She  had  put  on  a  white  dress  of  the  simplicity  whose 
price  is  beyond  rubies.  Her  hair  was  in  a  great  gleam- 
ing knot  of  gold  at  the  nape  of  her  neck.  She  looked 
about  sixteen,  and  felt  it.  When  the  bell  of  the  tele- 
phone rang  at  three  minutes  before  three,  she  thrilled 
all  over. 

"A  gentleman  asking  for  Mademoiselle.  He  says  he 
has  an  appointment,"  announced  Celine  at  the  'phone. 

"Any  name?"  Marise  inquired. 

Celine  put  her  lips  to  the  instrument,  the  receiver  to 
her  ear.  "The  gentleman  has  given  no  name,  because 
he  is  expected.  But  if  Mademoiselle  wishes  that  I 
insist ?" 

"No.  Tell  them  he's  to  come  up  at  once.  And, 
Celine,  be  ready  to  open  the  door  of  the  suite." 

The  Frenchwoman  went  out  noiselessly:  Marise 
rushed  to  the  long  mirror,  in  front  of  which  tall,  scented 
roses  were  banked.  Her  cheeks  were  very  pink.  She 
was  like  a  rose  herself.  But  hastily  she  rubbed  her 
little  nose  with  powder  from  a  vanity  box.  The  gold 
case  was  only  just  snapped  shut,  and  Marise  seated  with 
a  book,  when  she  heard  a  sound  in  the  vestibule.  He 
had  come! 


CHAPTEK  VII 

SAMSON   AGONISTES 

M ARISE  raised  her  eyes  from  an  uncut  volume  of 
poems,  and  looked  into  the  face  of — Samson. 

The  shock  of  disillusion  was  so  cruel  that  the  girl 
felt  faint.  She  was  giddy,  as  if  she  had  stooped  too 
long  over  a  hot  fire  and  risen  abruptly. 

So  this — this — was  her  Man  of  Mystery,  he  who  had 
held  in  unseen  hands  more  than  half  her  thoughts  for 
a  delicious  fortnight!  She  had  deigned  to  advertise 
in  a  newspaper  for  the  pleasure  of  meeting  this  lout, 
spurned  by  his  smart  regiment,  despite  his  Victoria 
Cross :  this  cad,  whose  notion  of  revenge  was  to  explode 
as  a  bomb  a  bottle  of  ginger-beer ! 

The  warm  glow  of  anticipation  was  chilled  to  ice. 
The  hands  that  tightened  on  the  book  went  suddenly 
cold.  Marise  did  not  know  what  to  do.  She  wavered 
between  an  impulse  to  be  rude  and  the  dutiful  decency 
of  a  hostess.  Meanwhile,  forgetting  to  act,  she  stared 
at  the  tall  figure  as  if  at  an  approaching  executioner. 
No  one  but  a  blind  man  or  a  fool  could  have  failed  to 
see  in  those  beautiful  eyes  the  blankness  of  disappoint- 
ment. 

John  Garth  was  neither  blind  nor  a  fool,  and  that 
look  of  hers  was  a  sharp-edged  axe  which  "hit  him 
where  he  lived,"  as  his  bruised  mind  vaguely  put  it. 

He  too  had  been  like  a  child.  Ever  since  the  day  of 
landing  in  New  York  he  had  planned  and  existed  only 

61 


62  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

for  this  moment.  He  had  coached  himself  for  it, 
dressed  himself  for  it,  spent  his  money  like  water  for 
it.  And  this  was  his  reward.  The  sight  of  him  was  a 
blow  over  the  heart  for  his  queen  of  romance.  It 
blanched  her  cheeks.    It  made  her  physically  sick. 

Celine  had  softly  shut  the  door  behind  the  guest,  but 
involuntarily  he  backed  against  it.  If  he  had  been  a 
few  years  younger  he  would  have  turned  like  a  country 
boy  and  rushed  away  without  a  word.  But  there  are 
some  things  a  man  can't  do;  and  others  he  must  do. 
Garth  had  to  say  something — the  sooner  the  better. 

What  he  said — or  what  said  itself  lamely — was: 
" You  didn't  expect  to  see  me  ?" 

"No.    I — didn't,"  Marise  as  lamely  agreed. 

"Do  you  want  me  to  go?"  he  blundered.  "If  you 
do,  I  will." 

"No — no,"  she  breathed  a  lukewarm  protest.  "Don't 
go — please.  I — I'm  only  a  little  surprised.  I  remem- 
ber— seeing  you  on  the  ship,  of  course.  And  I  didn't 
think " 

"You  didn't  think  I'd  force  myself  on  you — by  false 
pretences." 

"I  was  going  to  say,  I  didn't  think  of  seeing  anyone 
to-day — whom  I'd  ever  seen  before."  The  ice  of  her 
shocked  resentment  melted  slightly  in  the  reflected  fire 
of  his  pain.  "That's  all !  Do — sit  down,  won't  you  ? 
I'm  so  grateful.  I  want  to  tell  you  how  much — how 
much  I  thank  you  for  those  beautiful  things." 

As  she  spoke,  the  girl's  face  flushed  again.  After  all, 
the  man  had  done  nothing  so  monstrous.  He  couldn't 
be  blamed,  perhaps,  for  not  realising  that  merely  by 
being  himself — by  being  a  bounder  whom  his  brother 
officers  rejected — he  had  broken  the  charm  of  the  mys- 
tery.   He  couldn't  know  how  undesirable  he  would  seem 


SAMSON  AGONISTES  63 

to  a  girl  of  her  sort.  And  the  way  he  had  dressed 
himself  up  like  a  provincial  actor  playing  a  duke,  to 
make  his  call,  was  pathetic!  Besides,  there  was  the 
money  he'd  spent  on  her — hundreds  and  hundreds  of 
dollars  which  he  couldn't  afford.  Oh,  she  was  glad  that 
she  hadn't  followed  her  first  fierce  impulse,  and  been 
rude! 

Garth  had  not  accepted  the  invitation  to  sit  down, 
lie  remained  standing  upright  as  a  stick,  and  stolid  as 
a  stone,  against  the  door.  Evidently  he  stuck  to  his 
resolve  to  take  himself  away,  and  was  delayed  only  by 
the  mental  puzzle  of  how  best  to  do  it.  With  a  repent- 
ant throe  the  girl  sprang  up,  light  and  lithe  from  among 
her  cushions,  holding  out  her  hands. 

"I  do  thank  you !"  she  exclaimed.  "And  I  want  you 
to  sit  down." 

Her  look,  her  gesture,  overcame  him.  He  took  a  step 
forward,  seized  the  offered  hands,  and  almost  crushed 
them  in  his.  Marise  was  rather  frightened,  rather 
touched,  but  not  too  much  moved  to  notice  that  he 
didn't  know  enough  about  behaviour  to  take  off  his 
gloves — his  brutally  new,  gamboge-coloured  gloves !  Or 
else  he  was  absent  minded ! 

Partly  because  her  one  ring  was  pressing  into  her 
finger,'  partly  because  she  wished  for  instant  release,  she 
gave  a  little  squeak  of  pain.    "Oh,  my  ring!" 

Red  blood  poured  up  to  the  man's  brown  face.  The 
pressure  relaxed,  but  he  did  not  let  her  hands  go.  He 
lifted  them  to  his  lips  and  kissed  first  one,  then  the 
other.  His  mouth  was  hot  as  a  coal  just  dropped  from 
the  fire !  .  .  .  That  was  her  quick  impression.  She  was 
not  shocked,  for  her  hands  had  been  kissed  a  hundred 
times  by  sad,  mad  men — though  not  men  like  this.  She 
said  "Oh!"  however,  and  gazed  at  him  reproachfully, 


64  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

as   "Dolores"  gazed   at   the  villain  in   "The   Song." 

The  effect  upon  Garth  was  the  same  as  if  she  had 
been  sincerely  offended.  He  let  her  hands  fall,  and 
stammered  "Forgive  me!" 

Marise  was  beginning  to  enjoy  herself  a  little,  on  the 
whole. 

Of  course  the  man  was  common  and  rough.  What 
was  it  that  Tony  had  called  his  despised  brother  officer  ? 
A  "temporary  gentleman !"  Yes,  that  was  it !  And  a 
"momentary  gentleman"  would  be  even  more  appro- 
priate, she  thought,  because  at  an  instant  of  deep  emo- 
tion all  decent  men  were  raised  to  the  heights  of 
".Nature's  gentility.  This  fellow  was  as  fine  as  any 
nobleman,  for  these  few  seconds  af  time,  she  realised, 
and  it  was  worship  of  her  which  added  the  new  decora- 
tion to  his  V.C. !  Despite  her  disappointment,  she  felt 
that  romance  was  not  utterly  lacking  in  the  situation. 

"There's  nothing  to  forgive,"  were  the  obvious  words 
her  lips  spoke:  but  the  language  of  such  eyes  as  hers 
could  never  be  obvious.  The  soul  of  John  Garth 
drowned  in  their  blue  depths.  As  dying  men  lose  all 
care  for  conventions,  so  did  he  lose  it  while  thus  he 
drowned. 

"I  love  you — I  love  you !"  he  faltered.  "You  know, 
don't  you?     From  the  first — from  the  first  look!" 

"Oh  no,  I  don't  know  that,"  Marise  soothed  him. 
"But  you've  been  so  kind.  Those  wonderful  presents ! 
You  ought  not " 

"Thinking  of  them — sending  them — has  been  the  big 
joy  of  my  life,"  he  broke  in.  "I've  been — drunk  with 
it.  I've  never  felt  anything  like  this  before.  Why, 
I'd  die  for  you ;  I'd  sell  my  soul.    Even  that's  nothing !" 

"They're  very  great  things,"  she  assured  him  gravely, 
as  she  had  assured  other  men  of  different  types  who  had 


SAMSON  AGONISTES  65 

flung  themselves  on  her  altar  as  burnt-offerings.  "Any 
woman  would  feel  the  same.    But " 

"I  don't  care  a  hang  what  any  other  woman  would 
feel.  All  I  care  for  on  God's  earth  is  you — you. 
Couldn't  you  think  of  me — couldn't  you,  if  I  tried  to 
make  something  of  myself ?" 

Marise  laughed  a  charming  laugh.  "Isn't  it  making 
something  of  yourself,  to  have  won  the  Victoria  Cross  ?" 
she  challenged. 

"Oh,  that!  That  was  an  accident.  I  just  got  so 
mad  I  forgot  to  be  scared  for  a  minute  or  two,  and 
went  for  a  few  Germans " 

"The  newspapers  compared  you  to  Horatio  keeping 
the  bridge  against  an  army." 

"George !    You  remember  that  ?" 

"Women  don't  forget  such  things."  (She  would 
have  forgotten  if  that  clipping  from  the  Daily  Mail 
hadn't  associated  itself  with  Tony's  onslaught  upon  the 
regimental  hero.  But  she  wasn't  called  upon  to  men- 
tion this.)  "It  was  long  before  I  saw  you,  that  I  read 
what  you  had  done,  and  fixed  your  name  in  my  mind," 
she  went  on.  "Now  I  have  my  own  special  memories 
of  you.  I  shall  keep  your  gifts  always.  And  I  shall 
be  prouder  of  them  than  ever,  because  they  came  from 
a  hero " 

"You're  breaking  it  to  me  that  there's  no  hope,"  he 
cut  in.  The  blood  was  gone  from  his  face  now. 
"Nothing  I  could  do,  or  try  to  be,  would  make  you 
like  me  well  enough " 

"Oh,  you  are  too  impulsive!"  she  checked  him. 
"You've  seen  me  only  twice " 

"I've  seen  you  every  night  since  we  landed,  and  twice 
a  week  in  the  afternoon." 


66  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"What,  you've  come  to  the  theatre  for  every  per- 
formance, even  matinees,  just  to — to ?" 

"Hear  your  voice  and  see  your  face.  And  hate  that 
damned  actor-chap  who  kisses  you  in  the  third  act." 

"He  doesn't  really  kiss  me,"  Marise  hurried  to  ex- 
plain.   "He  only  seems  to." 

"God !    He  must  be  a  stone  image !" 

"He  is  a  gentleman,"  amended  Marise.  "Actors  who 
are  gentlemen  don't  kiss  the  actresses  who  play  opposite 
parts,  unless — unless  it's  absolutely  necessary." 

"Then  if  I  played  a  part  with  you  on  the  stage,  I  ^ 
couldn't  be  a  gentleman,"  Garth  exploded.  But  even 
as  he  spoke  he  blushed  darkly.  "You  don't  think  I 
am  one  off  the  stage,"  he  added.  "And  you're  right. 
I'm  not  what  your  friend  Lord  Severance  calls  a  gentle- 
man. I  know  what  he  does  call  me,  and  I  am  that,  I 
guess,  anyhow  when  he's  within  gunshot.  He  brings 
out  all  that's  worst  in  me.  There's  a  lot  of  it — so  much, 
that  if  that  thing  on  shipboard  was  to  do  over  again, 
I'd  do  it  without  a  qualm.  I  suppose  there's  where  the 
'cad'  element  he  talks  about  in  me  shows  up.  If  he 
was  here  now " 

"Ze  Earl  of  Severance,  Mademoiselle,"  announced 
Celine. 

Whether  Garth  had  meant  to  boast  or  belittle  himself 
Marise  would  never  know.  Nor  did  she  care.  All  her 
faculties  concentrated  upon  how  to  account  to  Severance 
for  the  man.  It  was  a  suffocating  moment  She  feared 
a  scene  between  the  two.  The  situation  called  for  a 
stroke  of  genius.  Was  she  equal  to  it  ?  She  must  be, 
for  Garth's  sake  and  for  her  own,  even  more  than  for 
Tony's,  and  what  he  would  think. 

Severance  came  in.  Suddenly  Marise  felt  as  she  had 
felt  on  the  stage  when  something  went  wrong  with  the 


SAMSON  AGONISTES  67 

play.  She  had  often  had  to  save  situations  by  sheer, 
quick  mother  wit.  Never  had  she  failed  her  fellow 
actors  in  a  crisis.     She  ought  to  be  ready  for  this ! 

Her  nerves  ceased  to  jump.  She  was  calm  and  con- 
fident. As  Severance's  darkening  gaze  fell  on  Garth, 
she  heard  herself  glibly  explaining  the  latter,  as  if  to 
an  audience. 

"Major  Garth  is  a  friend  of  Miss  Marks,  my  secre- 
tary. She  has  gone  out  for  a  few  minutes  with  mother, 
but  he  is  Raiting  for  her.    She'll  soon  be  back." 

Speaking,  she  smiled  at  the  V.C.,  and  her  eyes 
pleaded  excuses  for  the  fib.  "It's  only  a  white  one," 
they  said.  "And  it  saves  our  secret.  I  know  you'd  hate 
me  to  tell  him  you'd  sent  the  presents,  and  I  never, 
never  will.  That  is  sacred,  between  us  two.  So  is  all 
the  rest.  And  I'm  trying  to  straighten  things  out  for 
us  both." 

Garth  appeared  to  be  astonished,  but  not  shocked. 
His  silk  hat  (a  size  too  small)  lay  on  a  table  in  a  pool 
of  water  from  an  upset  vase,  he  having  flung  it  there  to 
free  his  hands  for  hers.  Now  he  made  a  move  to  re- 
trieve his  damaged  property,  but  a  second  thought  gave 
him  pause.  Marise  read  his  mind  as  if  it  worked  under 
glass.  Her  fib  about  Miss  Marks  had  doomed  him  to 
the  part  of  Casabianca,  while  the  ship  of  his  pride 
burned. 

The  "lion-look"  she  had  seen  in  the  man's  eyes  that 
day  at  sea  was  in  them  again.  Poor  brute  at  bay, 
caged  with  Severance!  The  girl  pitied  him.  But 
things  must  take  their  course.  Luckily  for  the  success 
of  her  lie,  Miss  Marks  was  not  returning  with  Mums. 
She — Marise — need  only  say,  when  the  latter  arrived 
alone,  what  a  pity  it  was !  Thus  Samson  would  auto- 
matically obtain  his  release. 


68  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

The  men  nodded  to  one  another,  as  polite  enemies 
must  sullenly  do  in  a  woman's  drawing-room.  Then 
Severance  turned  to  Miss  Sorel  with  the  air  of  spong- 
ing Garth's  mean  existence  off  the  earthly  slate.  "I'm 
early/'  he  explained,  "because  the  hotel  people  sent  me 
a  cable  to  Belloc's  place.  I  told  them  to  do  so,  if  one 
came.  My  Uncle  Constantine  Ionides  is  ill,  and  I'm 
afraid  I  shall  have  to  go  back  by  the  first  ship  I  can 
catch.  I  hoped  to  be  in  time  for  a  few  words  with  you  ( 
before  your  friends  began  to  drop  in." 

This  was  hard  on  the  intruder,  forced  against  his 
will  to  turn  a  "company"  into  a  "crowd,"  and  Marise's 
kind  heart  might  have  resented  the  slap  if  her  mind  had 
been  free.  But  it  was  instantly  preoccupied  with 
Tony's  news.  He  was  going  home !  He  wanted  to  talk 
with  her  alone.  This  could  mean  only  one  thing.  She 
supposed  that  he  wished  her  to  understand  as  much; 
and  either  he  took  Garth  for  a  dunce  or  intended  him 
to  understand  it  too.  It  was  as  if  he  said  to  the 
bounder:  "You're  welcome  to  what  you  can  find  in 
your  own  class:  Miss  Marks  and  her  set.  But  eyes 
down  and  hands  off  this  girl.     She's  mine." 

The  hint  was  too  broad,  the  position  too  humiliating, 
for  Garth's  temper  to  bear  in  patience.  Like  the  caged 
brute  in  Marise's  simile,  he  searched  the  bars  for  some 
way  of  breaking  through.  But  he  could  not  leave  her 
in  the  lurch.  Practically,  she'd  ordered  him  to  "stand 
by,"  and  he'd  have  to  do  it,  unless  some  look  of  hers 
gave  him  leave  to  bolt.  The  look  did  not  come,  however, 
and  he  could  not  guess  that  the  girl  was  merely  too 
absent-minded  to  give  it.  She  had  suddenly  become  as 
self-absorbed  as  a  hermit-crab  when  he  pulls  every  fila- 
ment of  himself  inside  his  ample  shell.  As  Miss  Sorel 
questioned  Severance  about  the  telegram,  Garth  was 


SAMSON  AGONISTES  69 

left  to  his  own  resources.  He  felt  gigantic  in  the  small, 
pretty  salon,  where  Chinese  jars  and  ribboned  pots  of 
flowers  left  hardly  room  for  a  clumsy  fellow  like  him  to 
turn  among  frail  chairs  and  tables.  He  knew  that 
Severance  knew  how  he  writhed  in  spirit,  and  that 
Severance  knew  he  knew.  How  much  worse  was  this 
ordeal  than  a  petty  barrage  of  ginger-beer !  Severance 
was  scoring  heavily  now.  Garth  thought  in  dumb  rage 
that  he  would  give  a  year  of  life  for  some  way  to  pay 
him  back.  And  the  girl,  too!  He  loved  her  with  a 
burning  love,  but  at  this  moment  the  difference  between 
love  and  hate  was  as  imperceptible  as  that  between  the 
touch  of  ice  and  a  red-hot  poker.  She  was  being  very 
cruel.  Garth  felt  capable  of  punishing  her — with 
Severance — if  he  could. 

He  took  his  hat  from  the  table,  and  rubbing  the  wet 
silk  with  his  glove,  stained  the  yellow  kid.  Incidentally 
he  made  the  hat  worse.  He  wandered  to  a  window 
looking  over  the  park,  and  longed  to  jump  out.  In  his 
awkward  misery,  the  man's  raw  sensitiveness  suffered 
to  exaggeration.  Staring  jealously  at  the  crowd  below 
— walking,  driving,  spinning  past  in  autos — he  knew 
the  emotions  of  one  penned  at  the  top  of  a  house  on 
fire,  gazing  down  at  the  safe,  comfortable  people  free 
to  pursue  their  daily  business  of  life,  and  love,  and 
work.  Behind  him,  Marise  and  her  friend  jabbered 
(that  was  the  word  in  his  head,  even  for  her  sweet 
voice)  as  if  he  were  invisible.  Desperation  seized  him. 
He  turned,  and  down  went  a  stand  with  a  statuette  and 
the  Sevres  box  the  "Unknown"  had  sent  Miss  Sorel. 
It  was  poetic  justice  that  his  gift  should  be  the  thing 
smashed ! 

Marise  said  "Oh!"  Severance  said  nothing.  He 
stood  still,  fingering  his  miniature  moustache  with  the 


70  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

air  of  a  man  who  expects  a  lackey  to  repair  damage. 
Garth  saw  red ;  and  if  he  had  picked  up  a  piece  of  the 
broken  box  it  would  have  been  to  hurl  it  at  the  dark, 
sneering  face.  But  Heaven  sometimes  tempers  the 
wind  to  shorn  lions  as  well  as  lambs :  and  if  Providence 
did  not  order  the  entrance  of  two  women  at  that  instant, 
who  did? 

It  was  Mrs.  Sorel  who  appeared  and  (Marise  gasped) 
Miss  Zelie  Marks.  Out  of  her  shell  in  self-defence,  the 
actress  would  have  rushed  to  save  this  scene,  as  she  had 
saved  the  last — somehow,  anyhow!  But  to  her  bewil- 
derment Garth  took  one  great  stride  towards  Miss 
Marks  and  snatched  her  hand  as  drowning  men  are  said 
to  snatch  at  straws.  "How  do  you  do  ?"  he  exclaimed 
eagerly. 

"Miss  Marks  and  Major  Garth  are  friends, "  Marise 
rattled  off  to  her  mother.  And  to  herself  she  added, 
"How  smart  of  him  to  guess  who  she  was !  Or — did  he 
know  ?" 

The  secretary's  cheeks  were  stained  carnation,  and 
she  was  handsomer  in  an  instant  than  Marise  had 
thought  she  could  be  in  a  year.  Her  black  eyes  were 
twinkling.  Did  she  guess  that  she  was  a  pawn  in  a 
game,  and  had  she  so  keen  a  sense  of  humour  as  to 
laugh?  Marise  was  more  interested  than  ever  in  this 
young  woman:  and  Mrs.  Sorel,  not  knowing  the  plot 
of  the  play,  was  yet  warned  by  her  famous  "instinct" 
that  something  queer,  something  dangerous,  was  in  the 
air. 

She  was  a  woman  who  prided  herself  on  presence  of 
mind.  Marise  hadn't  expected  her  secretary  to  return, 
therefore  it  seemed  unlikely  she  would  have  encouraged 
the  Bounder  to  wait  for  Miss  Marks.  And  as  for  that, 
why  was  the  Bounder  here  ?    Being  here,  the  further  he 


SAMSON  AGONISTES  71 

could  be  kept  from  Marise  and  Severance  the  better. 
She  herself  had  no  time  to  weave  spells  for  him.  Miss 
Marks  must  do  that,  and  take  him  away  with  her  when 
she  went.  Without  appearing  to  pause  after  Marise' s 
announcement,  Mary  Sorel  smiled  at  Miss  Marks. 
"Talk  to  Major  Garth,  my  dear,"  she  patronised,  "while 
I  explain  to  my  daughter  why  we  tore  back  in  such  a 
rush." 

Zelie  Marks  took  the  lady  at  her  word,  and  drew  her 
"friend"  apart.  By  the  remotest  window  the  two 
halted,  standing  confidentially  close,  the  girl  looking  up 
at  the  man,  the  man  looking  down  at  the  girl.  As  the 
conversation  was  now  only  of  Valinski's  dress  designs, 
not  Severance's  plans,  Marise  had  a  sub-eyelash  glance 
or  so  to  spare  for  the  couple.  Well,  certainly  Samson 
was  a  creditable  actor,  or  else  .  .  . 

"They  were  all  so  lovely  I  dared  not  choose,"  Mums 
was  expatiating.  "I  said  to  Miss  Marks,  'Suppose  we 
run  back  in  the  taxi  and  let  my  daughter  select  ?  Or, 
she  may  want  to  order  more  than  one  of  the  gowns.'  So 
I  slipped  the  designs  back  into  the  portfolio  Mr. 
Valinski  had  taken  them  from,  and  asked  permission  to 
borrow  the  lot.  Lord  Severance  must  tell  us  which  he 
prefers.  He's  such  a  good  judge!  And  Miss  Marks 
can  carry  back  the  portfolio,  with  a  note  from  me  to 
Valinski,  when  she  goes." 

The  three  heads — Tony's  glossy  black,  Marise  Sorel's 
glittering  gold,  her  mother's  a  rich,  expensive  brown — 
bent  together  above  a  trio  of  water-colour  sketches. 
Under  cover  of  selection  Severance  whispered :  "I  have 
some  bad  news.  Marise  knows  it.  But  I've  got  to  have 
a  talk  with  you  both  before  I  leave  this  room.  I  can't 
bear  suspense.  For  heaven's  sake  get  rid  of  people  as 
early  as  you  can." 


72  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Must  talk  to  them  both.  .  .  .  Couldn't  bear  sus- 
pense!" The  woman  agreed  with  the  girl  in  thinking 
there  was  but  one  interpretation  for  this ! 

"I'll  do  my  best/'  murmured  Mrs.  Sorel,  and  re- 
solved to  begin  the  good  work  by  bustling  Miss  Marks 
and  Major  Garth  off  the  moment  the  tea-gown  business1 
was  finished.  In  the  midst,  however,  Mrs.  Dunstan 
Belloc  breezed  in  with  her  pretty  sister  and  Belloc's 
millionaire  backer.  Mary  Sorel  moved  to  meet  them 
with  the  manner  she  had  copied  from  Tony's  great- 
aunt,  the  Duchess  of  Crownderby.  So  doing,  she 
slipped  Valinski's  portfolio  into  her  daughter's  hands 
with  an  unduchess-like,  "Hurry  up  and  choose,  and 
have  done  with  it!" 

Somehow,  Marise  had  not  the  proper  new-dress  thrill 
this  afternoon.  She  languidly  decided  on  a  classic  de- 
sign which  Severance  liked,  and  Valinski  had  named 
"Galatea." 

"Put  the  others  back  in  the  portfolio,  please,  Tony," 
she  said.  "I  must  go  and  help  Mums" — but  the 
microbe  of  accidents  was  running  amok  in  the  Sorels' 
salon.  Tony  dropped  the  book,  and  the  Pole's  designs 
fluttered  about  the  room.  Everybody  squealed  and 
began  picking  up  papers.  One  had  fallen  on  the  re^ 
mains  of  the  Sevres  box,  as  if  to  hide  the  wreckage. 
Garth  was  nearest  the  scene  of  his  own  disaster.  He 
stooped.  Marise  seized  the  chance  for  a  word  with  him. 
She  stooped  also.  Each  grasped  the  sketch,  which  came 
face  uppermost;  and  under  their  eyes  was  the  design 
for  the  blue  and  silver  gown  sent  by  the  Unknown. 

Zoyo  Valinski  had  made  that  dress,  then,  and  sacri- 
ficed an  advertisement  to  keep  Garth's  secret!  Zoyo 
tValinski  lived  in  the  house  with  Miss  Marks,  and  was 
recommended  by  her.    H'm !    H'm ! 


SAMSON  AGONISTES  73 

These  thoughts  jostled  each  other  in  the  brain  of 
Marise,  and  brought  in  their  train  another.  Naturally 
Garth  had  not  been  shocked  at  her  fib.  He  didn't  know 
it  was  a  fib !  The  surprise  was  only  that  Miss  Sorel  had 
hit  on  the  truth  and  used  it  so  glibly. 

"That  Marks  girl  helped  him  choose  the  things,"  she 
told  herself.  And  she  was  as  much  annoyed  as  puzzled. 
She  wished  to  fling  at  Garth:  "You  sent  her  to  our 
hotel  manager  to  ask  for  my  work.  Why,  she's  simply 
spying  on  me,  for  you  !" 

But  she  said  nothing  of  the  sort.  Indeed,  she  had 
no  time.  Seeing  Marise  and  the  Bounder  together, 
Mary  Sorel  flew  to  part  them.  "Miss  Marks  wants  me 
to  say  she'll  be  ready  to  go  in  a  few  minutes," 
the  anxious  lady  encouraged  Garth.  "She's  been  cap- 
tured by  Mrs.  Belloc.  It  seems  she  did  secretarial  work 
for  her  once.  Come,  and  I'll  introduce  you.  I've  just 
told  Mrs.  Belloc  that  you  are  the  V.C." 

It  was  half  an  hour  before  the  man's  martyrdom  was 
ended.  The  worst  had  been  suffered  at  the  beginning, 
when  he  was  the  third  in  a  reluctant  trio.  But  it  was 
all  bad  enough.  He  was  as  well  suited  to  this  jewel- 
box  of  a  salon  as  a  bull  is  to  a  china  shop,  and  he  had 
done  nearly  as  much  damage.  He  didn't  know  what 
to  say  to  Mrs.  Belloc  or  her  smart,  chattering  friends, 
and  they  didn't  know  what  to  say  to  him.  Even  a  Vic- 
toria Cross  couldn't  excuse  such  taste  in  clothes  as  his ! 
The  big  fellow's  necktie  was  a  scream;  his  gloves  (no 
other  man  kept  on  gloves!)  a  yell;  and  his  boots — 
literally — a  squeak.  That  was  the  description  of  him 
which  Mrs.  Belloc  planned  for  the  entertainment  of 
her  husband,  and  Garth  saw  it  developing  behind  her 
eyes. 

"Give  me  the  trenches!"  he  thought,  when  at  last 


74  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Miss  Marks  wriggled  free  of  the  actor-manager's  wife. 
He  still  hated  Marise  as  much  as  he  loved  her.  Yet 
when  he  said  "Good-bye"  he  did  not  mean  it  for  fare- 
well. He  determined  ferociously  that  he  would  see  her 
again.  "Next  time,"  he  resolved,  "I  won't  knock  over 
any  tables.  I'll  turn  them.  I'll  turn  the  tables  my 
way  perhaps,  and  against  that  damned  pig  of  an  earl!" 


CHAPTER  VIII 

WHAT  THE  STAB  SAID 

THANK  Heaven  she's  gone,  and  it's  ten  minutes 
past!"  fervently  sighed  Mrs.  Sorel,  as  the  door 
closed  behind  a  guest  she  had  kissed  warmly  on  both 
cheeks.  "Celine,  'phone  down  and  tell  them  not  to  send 
anyone  else  up,  no  matter  who.  We  needn't  be  'at 
home'  a  second  after  six." 

She  and  Marise  and  Severance  now  had  the  sitting- 
room  to  themselves.  The  girl,  who  had  been  too  busy 
feeding  others  to  eat  anything  herself,  selected  a 
macaroon  from  a  half-empty  dish  and  nibbled  it 
prettily.  Severance  regarded  the  charming  creature 
with  clouded  eyes,  wondering  how  much  appetite  their 
talk  would  leave  her. 

"How  dear  of  you  to  stay  and  see  us  through !"  cooed 
Mary,  as  if  she  had  not  known  Severance's  impatience 
equal  to  her  own.  She  did  this  to  lead  up  to  her  own 
tactful  exit;  and  the  mere  male  swallowed  her  bait 
without  suspicion. 

"See  you  through?"  he  echoed.  "Why,  I've  been 
hanging  on  by  my  eyelids,  waiting  for  my  chance  with 
you  and  Marise." 

"Unless  it's  something  you  need  me  for,"  the  chap- 
eron said  sweetly,  "perhaps  I  might  leave  you  to 
Marise's  tender  mercies.    I'm  a  little  tired " 

"I  do  need  you,"  Severance  assured  her.  "I  don't 
dare  to  say  what  I've  got  to  say  to  Marise  alone.  If  I 
did,  she  might  misunderstand.    I  can't  risk  that.    Mrs. 

75 


76  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Sorel,  this  talk  means  everything  to  me.  You're  my 
friend.     Promise  you  won't  misunderstand." 

Mary  Sorel  retained  a  fixed,  kind  smile ;  but  she  had 
a  sickly  sensation  under  her  Empire  waistband,  as  if 
something  inside  had  melted  and  then  cooled.  She 
glanced  at  Marise,  to  judge  if  the  girl  had  been  in  any 
way  prepared  for  this  queer  outbreak.  No,  evidently 
not !  The  blue  eyes  looked  large  and  suddenly  scared. 
Marise  stopped  eating  the  macaroon,  and,  going  slowly 
to  the  table,  she  laid  the  nibbled  remnant  on  somebody 
else's  plate. 

"Why,  of  course  I'll  stop,"  Mary  said.  "I'm  not  so 
tired  as  to  desert  you  when  you  flatter  me  like  that." 

"I'm  not  flattering,  I'm  depending  on  you."  Never 
before,  in  her  acquaintance  with  him,  had  the  voice  of 
Severance  betrayed  such  agitation.  Mary  braced  her- 
self against  a  blow ;  but  the  melting  thing  inside  began 
to  congeal  like  cold  candle-grease.  Her  knees  felt  like 
water.  Still  smiling,  she  sank  rather  than  sat  on  a 
sofa,  and  held  up  her  hand  to  Marise. 

"If  Lord  Severance  has  a  confession  to  make,  we'd 
better  sit  together  in  judgment,"  she  proposed.  "We'll 
be  kind  judges,  and  this  shall  be  our  throne." 

"Call  it  an  appeal — a  prayer — not  a  confession," 
Severance  said.  "If  I'd  ever  prayed  to  God  as  I'm 
going  to  pray  to  you  both,  maybe  I'd  not  be  in  the  fix 
I'm  in  now." 

"One  would  think  you  were  afraid  of  us !"  quavered 
Marise. 

"I  am,"  he  admitted.  "I  was  never  in  such  a  blue 
funk  in  my  life.  My  legs  are  like  poached  eggs  without 
toast." 

The  girl  laughed  nervously.  "You'd  better  sit 
down,"  she  advised. 


WHAT  THE  STAR  SAID  77 

"I  couldn't  to  save  my  life.  Might  as  well  ask  a  chap 
on  the  rack  to  sing  'Araby.'  " 

"You're  really  frightening  us!"  Mary's  tone  was 
shrill.  "Have  Bolsheviks  blown  up  your  family 
castles?  Have  you  lost  all  your  money?  Aren't  you 
the  true  heir  to  the  title?" 

"I'm  the  heir  right  enough/'  Severance  took  her 
seriously.  "And  I  haven't  got  any  money — worth  call- 
ing money.  There's  the  rub!  Marise,  you  know  I 
love  you  ?" 

The  girl  caught  her  breath.  "Why — sometimes  I've 
thought  so." 

"You've  known  it,  as  well  as  you  know  you're  alive. 
If  I  hadn't  come  into  the  beastly  title  I'd  have  asked 
you  to  marry  me  long  ago.  It  was  your  own  fault  I 
didn't  ask  you,  before  my  Cousin  Eric  died — the  first 
one  of  the  lot  to  go.  You  used  to  snub  me  every  time  I 
tried  to  speak  of  marrying.  You  didn't  want  to  make 
up  your  mind!" 

"No,  honestly,  I  didn't,"  she  confessed.  "I  liked  you 
a  whole  lot,  Tony,  but — I  wasn't  quite  sure — of  either 
of  us,  you  see,  and " 

"You  might  have  been  sure  of  me!  I  couldn't  look 
at  any  woman  except  you." 

"It  wasn't  that  sort  of  thing — exactly.  People — 
cats! — used  to  put  such  horrid  ideas  into  my  head." 

"What  ideas?" 

"I  simply  can't  tell  you,  Tony.  Don't  ask  me, 
please." 

"Oh,  well !"  he  flung  out.  "It  doesn't  matter  much 
now  what  ideas  you  had  then.  Do  you  love  me  to-day, 
Marise?" 

"I — think  I  do — a  little,"  she  almost  whispered,  as 


78  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

her  parent's  arm  (twined  round  her  waist)  pressed 
painfully  against  her  side. 

"A  little  isn't  enough!"  Severance  said.  "Ii  must 
be  a  big  love  to  stand  the  strain." 

"The  strain  of  what?"  Mary,  as  a  mother,  inter- 
vened. 

"Of  the  sacrifice  I'm  going  to  ask — to  beg,  to  implore 
— her  to  make." 

"Sacrifice  ?  Do  you  mean  anything  about  money  ?" 
Mrs.  Sorel  wanted  to  know.  "You  were  quite  right  in 
calling  me  your  friend.  I  can  assure  you  it  would  be  a 
joy  to  Marise  if,  in  your  trouble,  her  money " 

"The  trouble's  worse  than  money." 

"Tell  us  quickly,"  the  girl  bade  him.  "You  said 
you  couldn't  bear  suspense.  Neither  can  I  bear  it. 
We're  both  fond  of  you,  Tony — Mums  and  I.  What 
hurts  you,  hurts  us."  And  her  tingling  brain  suddenly, 
inappropriately,  gave  her  a  picture  of  Garth,  as  he  had 
stood  tall  and  stiff  against  the  door.  He,  too,  had  said, 
in  vibrating  tones,  that  he  loved  her.  He  had  begged 
her  to  give  him  a  chance ;  implored  that  she  would  let 
him  try  to  be  worthy.  As  if,  poor  fellow,  he  ever  could 
come  up  to  her  standard !  What  girl  of  her  breeding 
would  think  of  him  twice  when  there  were  blue-blooded, 
perfectly-groomed  Greek  gods  like  Tony  Severance  on 
earth  ?  Mentally  she  whistled  John  Garth,  V.O.,  down 
the  wind  to  low-lying  valleys  peopled  with  girls  like 
Miss  Marks. 

Tony  was  pale  with  the  dusky  pallor  of  olive  com- 
plexions; his  pleading  eyes  were  like  velvet  with  dia- 
monds glittering  through.  She  had  never  realised  how 
he  loved  her — he,  whom  so  many  women  worshipped. 
She  felt  that  she  loved  him  dearly,  too.    For  the  first 


WHAT  THE  STAR  SAID  79 

time  her  heart  was  stirred  warmly  by  his  extraordinary 
good  looks. 

"You  know  all  about  my  Uncle  Constantino,  my 
mother's  half-brother/'  he  said,  leaning  on  the  mantel- 
piece and  nervously  lighting  a  cigarette  (Mrs.  Sorel 
and  Marise  permitted  this ;  even  smoked  with  him  now 
and  then).  "Well,  Uncle  Con  had  very  little  use  for 
me  till  by  a  fluke  I  got  the  title.  I  never  expected  a 
penny  of  his  money,  though  he  was  my  mother's 
guardian  before  she  ran  away  with  my  father.  He 
thought  I  was  a  rotter,  and  didn't  mind  my  knowing 
his  opinion.  He  didn't  exactly  forbid  me  his  house  in 
London,  for  he'd  been  fond  of  mother  in  his  hard  way, 
but  he  gave  me  no  encouragement  to  come.  His  vacil- 
lation was  because  of  my  cousin  CEnone.  Did  I  ever 
speak  of  her  to  you  ?" 

"You  may  have  mentioned  her,"  said  Marise.  "But, 
of  course,  we  knew  of  her  existence.  There  are  always 
things  in  the  papers  about  people  with  such  incredible 
stacks  of  millions  as  the  Ionides  family  have.  She's  a 
'poor  little  rich  girl,'  isn't  she?  An  invalid — something 
the  matter  with  her  spine  ?" 

"She  is  an  invalid,"  Severance  answered.  "But  as 
years  go,  she  isn't  a  'little  girl'  any  more.  She's  close 
on  twenty-two.  I  doubt  if  she'll  ever  see  twenty-three 
in  this  world." 

"Pathetic!"  sympathised  Marise.  "All  that  money 
couldn't  give  her  happiness !" 

"She  thinks,"  said  Severance  sullenly,  "that  only  one 
thing  can  give  her  happiness — marrying  me." 

"Good  gracious!"  gasped  Mrs.  Sorel.  Her  blood 
flew  to  her  head.  Was  he  asking  Marise  to  love  him, 
only  to  break  the  news  that  she  was  to  be  jilted? 

"(Enone  has  cared,   since  she  was  a  tiny  child," 


80  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Severance  stumbled  gloomily  on.  "It  really  was 
pathetic,  then.  When  she  began  to  grow  up  (not  much 
in  size,  poor  girl,  but  in  years,  you  know),  Uncle  Con 
would  have  shut  the  door  on  me  if  he  hadn't  been  afraid 
(Enone  would  die  of  grief.  He  thought  me  cad  enough 
to  cook  up  some  plot,  and  contrive  to  marry  the  girl 
behind  his  back — for  her  millions.  But  when  I  got  the 
earldom,  a  change  came  o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dream. 
.  .  .  He's  a  born  snob,  is  my  half -Uncle  Constantine! 
He  always  loved  a  title,  and  hoped  he  could  squeeze  one 
for  himself  out  of  some  British  Government,  but  he's 
never  succeeded,  so  far.  Instead  of  chasing  me  away 
with  a  stick,  he  invited  me  to  come  as  often  as  possible. 
And  just  before  you  arranged  to  sail  he  made  me  a 
definite  offer." 

"You  don't  mean "    Mary  Sorel  broke  down  in 

the  midst  of  her  sentence. 

"I  do.  He  said  if  I  would  marry  (Enone,  and 
'make  his  daughter  a  countess'  (real  old  melodrama 
stuff!)  he'd  settle  a  million  pounds  on  me,  on  our 
wedding-day.  Also,  I'd  inherit  (Enone's  private  for- 
tune. Darling  Marise,  dear  Mrs.  Sorel,  if  you  knew  all 
the  money  troubles  I've  had,  and  have  still,  you'd  for- 
give me  if  I  told  you  this  was  a  temptation." 

"But  you  didn't  yield  ?"  Mary  prompted. 

"No-o.  Because  Marise  was  sailing  for  the  States, 
and  I  couldn't  let  her  come  over  here  without  me,  to  be 
gobbled  up  by  some  beastly  American  millionaire.  I 
had  to  be  with  her.    I  had  to !" 

"That  is  real  love,"  cried  Mary.  "I'm  proud  of 
you." 

"I'm  not  proud  of  myself,"  he  mumbled.  "I  got  that 
bally  mission.  I  persuaded  Uncle  Con  to  believe — at 
least  I  hope  he  more  or  less  believed! — that  it  was 


WHAT  THE  STAR  SAID  81 

thrust  on  me,  instead  of  my  doing  all  I  knew  to  bag  it. 
I  told  him  I'd  decide  directly  I  returned  to  England — 
which  would  be  soon.  But  it  hasn't  been  soon.  He's  a 
man  who  gets  inside  information  about  official  things. 
He  knows  the  mission  is  finished,  and  I  could  go  home 
any  day  I  liked.  Presently,  if  I'm  not  jolly  careful, 
he'll  find  out  why  I  don't  like.  Then  my  goose  will  be 
cooked.  Marise — Mrs.  Sorel — I  simply  can't  afford  to 
have  that  happen." 

"What  do  you  propose  to  do?"  Mary  challenged 
him,  dry-lipped. 

The  black  eyes  blazed  despair.     "What  can  I  do?" 

"Tony,"  said  Marise  softly,  "I've  got  'normous  lots 
of  money  saved  up;  'most  two  hundred  thousand  dol- 
lars. You  don't  need  to  grovel  in  the  dust  to  any  old 
Greek  banker,  if  he  is  your  uncle.    So  there !" 

"My  poor,  sweet  baby,"  groaned  Severance.  "What's 
two  hundred  thousand  dollars  ?  Fif ty  thousand  pounds, 
isn't  it?  That's  pin  money  for  you  and  your  mother; 
and  you  go  on  making  more  while  you  stay  on  the  stage, 
as  a  spider  winds  silvery  thread  out  of  itself-  But  for 
me  it's  not  nearly  enough,  as  things  are  now.  It 
wouldn't  save  the  situation.  I've  come  into  more  than 
that  amount  with  the  estates.  It's  a  drop  in  the  bucket, 
I  find.  The  fellows  behind  me  in  the  succession  re- 
signed themselves  to  poverty.  I  can't,  for  the  best  of 
reasons.  I'm  in  a  beastly  moneylender's  hands.  I  be- 
gan by  owing  him  ten  thousand  pounds.  It's  more  like 
eighty  thousand  to-day.  Now,  maybe,  you  see  where  we 
stand." 

"No,  I  don't  see  yet,  where  we  are  concerned,"  Mary 
objected.  "You  said  you'd  some  suggestion — some 
proposal  to  make.  But  if  Marise's  money  isn't  enough 
to " 


82  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"It  isn't,  even  if  I  could  take  it." 

"And  if  you're  considering  the  idea  of  marrying  your 
cousin " 

"I've  got  to  marry  her.  That's  all  there  is  to  it. 
I've  realised  it  since  a  heart-to-heart  talk  old  Con  forced 
me  to  have  with  him  a  fortnight  before  we  sailed.  I 
saw  that  some  day  this  thing  would  have  to  happen." 

"Then  where — does  Marise  come  in?"  Mary  sud- 
denly bristled  like  a  rjiother-porcupine. 

For  a  moment  Severance  did  not  speak.  It  seemed 
that  he  could  not.  His  gaze  turned  first  to  Marise,  then 
to  Mary.  Could  it  be  possible  that  those  black  eyes 
of  his  glittered  with  starting  tears  ? 

"I'm  going  to  tell  you,"  he  said  slowly,  at  last.  "I 
want  to  tell  you  on  my  knees.  It's  the  only  way  a  man 
could  dare  to  say  a  thing  like  this  to  a  girl  like  Marise 
— to  a  woman  like  you,  Mrs.  Sorel." 

He  did  not  wait  for  a  word  from  either,  but  dropped 
to  one  knee,  and  threw  his  arms  about  both  women  as 
they  clung  nervously  together.  They  could  feel  the 
throb  of  blood  in  his  muscles.  His  face  was  no  longer 
merely  handsome ;  it  was  beautiful  with  a  tragic,  Greek 
beauty.  The  look  in  his  eyes  (Mary  thought  vaguely, 
as  one  thinks  under  a  light  dose  of  ether)  would  touch 
a  heart  of  stone. 

"I've  got  to  marry  (Enone,"  he  repeated,  "or  come 
the  worst  cropper  of  any  Severance  for  a  century.  If 
I'd  never  met  you,  Marise,  I'd  have  done  it  without  a 
qualm.  (Enone's  a  nice  little  thing — not  the  sort  to 
keep  a  man  in  leading-strings  because  she  holds  the 
purse.  I  could  have  amused  myself  without  much  fear 
that  she'd  fuss — or  tell  tales  to  her  father.  But  when  a 
man  loves  a  woman  as  I  love  you,  it  changes  his  out- 


WHAT  THE  STAR  SAID  85 

look.  I  must  see  you.  I  must  be  with  you.  I  can't 
live  away  from  you  for  long." 

"Fm  afraid  you'll  have  to  when  you've  married  Miss 
Ionides,"  Mary's  frozen  voice  warned  him. 

"Wait!  Listen  to  my  plan.  I've  only  just  thor- 
oughly worked  it  out.    I " 

"Yet  you  told  us  a  minute  ago  that  you'd  decided 
on  this  marriage  before  sailing." 

"That's  true.  But  don't  be  so  hard  on  me.  You 
promised  to  be  kind  judges.  Put  yourself  in  my  place, 
if  you  can,  Mrs.  Sorel.  My  love  for  your  girl  is  more 
than  love.  It's  a  flame — a  driving  passion.  Can  a  man 
reason  coldly  when  his  blood,  and  his  brain  too,  are  on 
fire !  I  had  to  come  with  her  to  New  York.  I  couldn't 
look  ahead  further  than  that.  I  mean  to  make  some 
plan,  and  God  knows  I've  tried,  day  and  night.  I've 
thought  of  little  else.  But  every  idea  I  had  was  shut  up 
inside  what  they  call  a  Vicious  circle.'  I  could  see  no 
way  out  that  Marise  would  accept — or  you  would  let 
her  accept.  Then  this  last  cable  of  old  Con's  came  to- 
day, while  I  was  at  Belloc's.  It  is  a  kind  of  ultimatum. 
I  know  he  means  me  to  understand  that.  You  can  sea 
it  if  you  like — only  let  me  go  on  now — as  I'm  started. 
It  would  be  worse  beginning  again.  Jle  says  he's  down 
with  'flu,  and  (Enone  is  ill  too,  and  he  must  see  me  to 
'settle  the  matter  under  discussion,  or  it  may  be  too- 
late.'  Those  are  his  words.  They're  a  threat.  By 
Jove,  it  was  a  douche,  reading  that  in  the  midst  of  a 
jolly  luncheon !  I  saw  stars:  but  one  of  them  has  sent 
me  a  ray  of  light.  I  almost  prayed  to  get  its  message. 
First  time  I've  prayed  since  I  was  in  the  nursery !  Yet 
here  I  am  on  my  knees  to  you  both,  to  tell  you  what 
the  star  said. 

"Uncle  Con  may  have  'flu,  and  he  may  die,  but  he's 


84  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

sure  to  tie  everything  up  tight.  Fm  marked  for 
slaughter.  There's  no  squirming  out.  But  poor  (Enone 
can't  live  long,  even  if  she  gets  the  toy  she  wants  to  play 
with — me.  Her  father  doesn't  thoroughly  realise  that 
she's  doomed,  but  her  doctors  do.  One  of  them  is  a 
friend  of  mine.  He  told  me.  She's  got  some  queer 
kind  of  incipient  tuberculosis,  and  chronic  ansemia. 
Happiness — such  as  I  can  give  her — will  only  be  a  flash 
in  the  pan.  I'll  be  more  of  a  nurse  than  a  husband. 
Well,  I'm  willing  to  go  through  all  that,  and  do  my 
honest  best  for  her,  while  she  lives.  But  if  Fm  to  live, 
I  can't  be  separated  for  a  year — or  at  worst,  let's  say 
two  years — from  the  light  of  my  life,  the  core  of  my 
heart.  I  must  be  able  to  meet  Marise,  to  have  her 
society,  her  friendship — by  God,  I  swear  I  mean  no 
evil !  I  must  have  something,  I  tell  you,  if  I'm  to  get 
through  that  probation.  Well,  I  see  as  clearly  as  you 
both  see  that  we  must  have  no  scandal — for  her  sake 
— and  for  mine,  too — and  even  for  OEnone's.  I  don't 
want  to  distress  the  poor  little  thing !  So  here's  the  plan 
that  jumped  into  my  brain  ready  made.  Don't  cut  me 
short — don't  tell  me  to  stop  before  I've  explained — 
before  I've  got  to  the  end." 

"Go  on,"  said  Mary  Sorel,  in  a  strained  voice. 
Marise  did  not  speak.  She  felt  dazed,  as  if  she  were  in 
a  feverish  dream. 

"Suppose  I  marry;  suppose  I  bring  my — suppose  I 
bring  OEnone  (I  can  hardly  call  her  a  'wife')  over  to 
America  for  a  change  of  air,  a  tonic.  She'd  like  that. 
She's  always  wanted  to  travel,  but  her  father  had  no 
time;  and  she  wouldn't  have  been  happy  with  paid 
guardians.  I'd  paint  a  glowing  picture  of  California — 
or  Arizona:  they  say  it's  great  out  there  for  tubercular 
people.     Even  GEnone's  own  father  would  approve  of 


WHAT  THE  STAR  SAID  85 

such  a  trip  if — if  Marise  were  supposed  to  be  out  of  the 
running.  Don't  speak !  I'm  going  to  explain !  What 
I  mean  is  this.  .  .  . 

"Old  Con  is  the  opposite  of  a  mole.  He  knows  I've 
been  a  different  man  this  last  year.  He  ferreted  out 
the  truth  somehow — did  it  himself ,  or  with  a  detective's 
help.  Probably  himself:  he's  that  kind.  He  doesn't 
trust  his  secrets  to  others.  He  didn't  object  openly  to 
my  American  mission.  In  a  way,  it  was  an  honour. 
But,  of  course,  he  learned  that  I  was  sailing  on  the  ship 
with  you  two.  He  hasn't  given  me  a  day's  rest  since 
we  landed.  I  wired  I'd  had  'flu.  (I  did  get  a  cold  last 
week !)  Then  he  took  a  leaf  out  of  my  book.  Now  he's 
developed  the  disease !  If  Marise  were  acting  in  New 
York  and  touring  the  States,  he'd  smell  a  rat  if  I  pre^ 
scribedhAmerica  for  my  bride's  health.  But  if  Marise 
were  married  to  another  man,  and  had  left  the 
stage " 

"Good  heavens !"  Mary  bounded  on  the  sofa,  and 
gasped  aloud.  But  Severance  pressed  her  down  with  a 
strong  arm. 

"You  promised  to  let  me  finish !"  he  urged.  "Now 
you'll  begin  to  understand  why  I  wouldn't  say  all  this 
to  Marise  alone.  Asking  you  to  be  with  us  proves  my 
respect  for  her — for  you  both.  This  isn't  only  the  plea 
of  a  desperate  man — though  it's  that  first  of  all!  It's  a 
business  proposition.  The  day  I  marry  (Enone  Ionides, 
I  become  master  of  a  million  pounds.  That's  five  mil- 
lion dollars.  Onetmillion  of  those  five  million  dollars  I 
would  offer  to  a — dummy  husband  for  Marise.  Let  me 
go  on !  A  man  who'd  understand  that  he  was  to  be  a 
figurehead,  and  nothing  more.  You'd  say — if  you'd  say 
anything — that  only  a  cur  in  the  gutter  would  take  such 
a  position,  and  a  cur  in  the  gutter  would  be  of  no  use 


86  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

to  us.  To  rise  above  suspicion — even  old  Con's  sus- 
picion!— He'd  have  to  be  a  decent  sort  of  chap  to  all 
appearances,  a  man  who  might  attract  a  girl — even  a 
girl  like  Marise.  He'd  have  to  have  some  money  of  his 
own  already,  and  some  sort  of  standing.  With  that  in 
his  favour,  the  world  and  my  uncle  would  accept  him  as 
a  husband  Miss  Sorel  might  choose.  Such  a  person 
could  be  found — for  a  million  dollars.  I  know  men 
of  all  sorts,  and  I  guarantee  that.  With  a  million 
dollars  behind  her,  Marise  could  give  up  the  stage — 
she'd  do  that,  anyhow,  if  she  married  me.  She  could 
travel  west  with  her  dummy  husband  (and  her  mother, 
of  course,  that  goes  without  saying!)  By  that  time, 
I'd  be  over  here  again  with  poor  CEnone.  We  could  all 
meet — by  accident.  In  England,  even  that  might  make 
talk.  England's  too  small  for  us.  But  over  here,  in  a 
big  free  country — especially  out  west — it  would  be  safe. 
We  should  see  each  other,  Marise  and  I.  And  I'd  ask 
no  more  than  that.  For  a  while  I  could  live  on  the 
sight  of  her — and  hope.  When  (Enone's  little  spark  of 
life  burns  out,  as  it  must  before  long,  with  the  best  of 
care  possible,  Marise  at  once  divorces  her  dummy.  He 
gives  her  technical  cause,  of  course.  That's  part  of  the 
bargain  I  make  with  my  million.  No  breath  of  scandal 
against  Marise!  And,  a  few  months  later,  she  and  I 
are  married.  There's  only  this  short  road  of  red-hot 
ploughshares  for  us  both  to  tread.  Then,  instead  of 
marrying  a  pauper,  such  as  I  am  now,  and  both  of  us 
battening  on  her  bank  account — she'd  perhaps  be  forced 
to  go  back  on  the  stage  to  keep  the  pot  boiling — my 
darling  girl  finds  herself  the  wife  of  a  very  rich  man, 
one  of  the  richest  peers  in  Great  Britain.  For  in  addi- 
tion to  old  Con's  million  pounds,  I  should  have  (Enone's 
private  fortune.     He  has  agreed  to  that,  with  her,  in 


WHAT  THE  STAR  SAID  87 

the  event  of  her  death,  which  he  hopes  may  be  long 
delayed  by  happiness,  and  which  I  know  won't — can't 
possibly  be.  .  .  .  There!  I've  finished  at  last!  The 
only  thing  left  is  for  me  to  tell  you  over  again  that 
my  life  depends  on  your  decision,  I  believe  I'll  kill 
myself  if  the  answer  is  'No.' " 


CHAPTEE  IX 

SOMETHING  OUT  OF  ANCIENT  ROME 

THE  hot  torrent  of  words  ceased.  There  was  silence 
in  the  gaily-tinted,  flower-filled  salon,  save  for  the 
tick  of  an  absurd  Louis  Seize  clock  on  the  mantel. 
Under  the  gilt  wheel  of  Time  a  cupid  balanced  back 
and  forth,  in  a  Bhinestone  swing — "Yes,"  "No,"  the 
seesaw  motion  seemed  to  say. 

The  stillness  was  terrible  to  Severance.  He  did  not 
get  up  from  his  knees.  He  did  not  release  the  women's 
waists  from  the  girdle  of  his  arms.  His  eyes  were  on 
the  face  of  Marise.    Never  had  he  seen  her  so  pale. 

"For  God's  sake,  speak! — one  of  you,"  he  stam- 
mered. 

Abruptly  the  girl  pushed  his  arm  away,  and  sprang 
to  her  feet. 

"You  are  wicked!"  she  cried.  "Horrible!  It  can't 
be  true  that  this  has  happened  to  me.  It's  a  nightmare. 
I  want  to  wake  up !" 

Severance  abandoned  his  prayerful  position  and 
faced  her.  He  would  have  caught  her  hands,  but  she 
thrust  him  back  with  violence. 

"I  thought  you  were  a  modern  Englishman,  like 
other  Englishmen — like  all  other  decent  men  I've 
known.  But  you're  not,"  she  panted.  "You're  some- 
thing out  of  the  Middle  Ages.  No !  you're  before  that. 
You're  of  Ancient  Rome — the  time  of  the  Borgias.  Or 
Beatrice  Cenci." 

88 


SOMETHING  OUT  OP  ANCIENT  ROME     89 

"Don't,  don't,  Marise,  my  child!"  Mary  joined 
soothing  with  command.  "You'll  make  yourself  ill. 
We  must  be  calm.    We  must  think." 

"Think  ?"  the  girl  repeated.  "What  is  there  to  think 
about  ?  Surely  you  don't  suggest  that  I  should  'reflect' 
— that  I  should  study  whether  to  accept  or  not  such 
a — bargain  ?" 

"That's  a  hard  word!"  Severance  pleaded.  "And 
as  for  Ancient  Home,  I  should  say  that  it  and  modern 
Britain — or  Prance — or  even  your  own  America — are 
the  same  at  bed-rock.  We're  all  volcanoes  with  our 
lava  cooled  a  bit  on  the  surface  by  laws — or  civili- 
sation. Human  passions  don't  change;  and  the  strong- 
est of  them  is  love.  Anyhow,  it  is  so  with  me.  I'm 
half  Greek,  you  know,  and  my  English  half  is  half 
Spanish." 

"Dearest,  when  I  tell  you  to  'think,'  of  course  it 
depends  on  whether  you  love  Tony  or  not,"  Mary  Sorel 
reminded  her  daughter.  But  even  she  did  not  dare 
touch  Marise  at  that  moment.  It  would  have  been 
much  like  trying  to  pat  a  young,  unfed  leopardess. 
She,  always  keeping  on  the  conventional  side,  had  never 
before  called  Severance  "Tony"  to  his  face.  As  a 
parched  patch  of  earth  thirstily  sucks  in  the  least  drop 
of  dew,  he  caught  at  this  sign  of  grace,  and  thanked 
his  stars  that  he  had  made  a  reckless  bid  for  Mary's 
friendship.  She  adored  England  and  old  English  cus- 
toms; above  all,  old  English  titles.  In  the  midst  of 
gratitude,  the  man  knew  her  for  a  snob,  and  counted  on 
the  sacrifice  she  would  offer  the  god  of  Snobbery.  If 
anyone  could  help  him,  she  could.  If  any  counsel  could 
prevail  with  the  hurt,  humiliated,  angry  girl,  it  would 
be  her  mother's. 


90  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Do  you  love  him  ?"  Mary  persevered,  when  Marise 
kept  silence  behind  a  bitten  red  lip. 

"I  did  love  him.    I  thought  I  did." 

"Darling,  I  know  you  loved  him,  and  do  love  him. 
You're  suffering  now.  But,  remember  poor  Tony  is 
suffering  too." 

"Poor  Tony!" 

"Yes,  poor  Tony.  He  has  gone  through  a  great  deal, 
and  has  kept  it  in,  hoping  against  hope.  He  didn't 
speak  out  till  there  seemed  to  be  no  more  hope — except 
in  this  one  way.  I  told  you,  even  on  shipboard,  I  felt 
he  was  living  under  some  strain.  I'm  a  woman,  and 
your  mother.  I'd  be  the  first  on  earth  to  resent  the 
slightest  insult  to  you,  if  it  were  meant.  But  just  be- 
cause I'm  a  woman,  who  has  lived  through  a  woman' 3 
experience  of  life  and  love — love  of  husband — love  of 
child — I  recognise  sincerity  by  instinct.  Severance  is 
truly  sincere.  He  worships  you,  and  if  he  has  been 
carried  away,  it  is  by  worship.  Don't  drive  him  to  des- 
peration by  refusing  to  forgive  him,  whatever  else  you 
may  decide  to  do." 

"It  rests  with  you,  Marise,  whether  I  live  or  die," 
Severance  was  now  encouraged  to  plead. 

The  girl's  lips  trembled.  "Oh,  if  only  I  could  wake 
up !"  she  cried.  Tears  poured  over  her  cheeks.  Mary 
caught  the  shaking  figure  to  her  breast.  The  two  wept 
together. 

"We  must — must  face  things!"  Mary  let  herself 
sob.  "I'm  afraid  we  are  awake— -wider  awake  than 
we've  ever  been  in  our  happy  life  these  last  three  years. 
We  took  the  pleasant  side  of  things  for  granted.  As 
they  say  over  here,  we're  'up  against'  the  grim  side  now. 
If  you  love  Tony  only  half  as  much  as  he  loves  you, 
why,  it  seems  to  me  you  ought — indeed  it's  your  duty 


SOMETHING  OUT  OF  ANCIENT  ROME     91 

to  your  future — to  think  twice  before  sending  him  out 
into  darkness,  with  no  light  of  hope." 

"Things  like  my  plan  often  happen  to  people,  just  by 
accident/'  said  Tony.  "A  man  who  loves  one  girl  has 
to  marry  another.  His  wife  dies.  Meanwhile,  the  first 
girl  has  taken  a  husband — perhaps  out  of  pique.  He's 
a  rotter.  She  divorces  him.  Then  the  pair  who've 
loved  each  other  are  free  to  be  happy  ever  after.  If 
they're  rich,  too,  so  much  the  better  for  them!  They 
don't  feel  guilty.  Why  should  they  ?  They've  nothing 
to  feel  guilty  about.  Why  should  it  be  so  appalling  if 
a  man,  to  save  his  soul  and  his  love,  plans  out  some- 
thing of  "this  sort,  instead  of  blundering  into  it?  I 
can't  see  any  reason.  Aren't  you  being  a  Pharisee — 
or  a  hypocrite,  Marise  ?" 

"Aren't  you  being  a  Joseph  Surface?"  she  flung 
back.  "Perhaps  I  never  told  you  that  I  played  'Lady 
Teazle,'  and  got  a  prize  at  my  dramatic  school.  So 
I  know  all  about  the  'consciousness  of  innocence.'  " 

The  girl  spoke  stormily.  Her  eyes  blazed  at  the 
man  through  tears.  Yet  he  and  Mary  both  knew  from 
her  words — her  tone — that  in  spite  of  herself  she  had 
begun  to  "think." 

"Joseph  Surface  was  a  cold  snake,"  said  Tony.  "At 
worst  I'm  not  that,  or  I  wouldn't  be  ready  to  wade 
through  fire  and  water  to  win  you  at  last." 

"No,  you're  not  a  cold  snake,"  Marise  agreed.  And 
the  eyes  of  Severance  and  Mrs.  Sorel  met,  as  the  girl 
dashed  a  handkerchief  across  hers.  Mary's  glance 
telegraphed  Tony,  "This  sad  business  may  come  right, 
after  all !"  "You  had  better  leave  us,  my  friend,"  she 
said  aloud.  "Marise  and  I  will  at  least  talk  this  over 
— thrash  it  out,  and " 


92  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"A  thrashing  is  just  what  it  deserves/'  the  girl 
snapped.     "A  thorough  thrashing!" 

"It  shall  have  it,"  Mums  soothed  her  patiently. 
"But  we  may  think " 

"Even  if  we  did  think,"  Marise  "broke  out,  with  a 
sudden  flash  at  Severance,  "what  good  would  it  do? 
Even  if  I  were  willing — though  I  can't  conceive  it! 
What  use  would  that  be  ?  You  can't  kindle  a  fire  with- 
out a  match.  There  isn't  a  man  living  who'd  be  the  ' 
match.    A  dummy  match !"  * 

"You  forget  the  million  dollars,"  Severance  said. 

"I  don't.  But  you  admitted  yourself,  he  must  at 
least  seem  a  decent  man,  or  the  scheme  would  fail.  No 
decent  man " 

"Some  smart  actor  who  fancies  himself,  and  dreams 
of  having  his  own  New  York  theatre,"  cried  Severance, 
inspired.     "With  a  million  dollars — — " 

"He'd  want  me  to  stay  on  the  stage  and  star  with 
him " 

"Well,  then,  some  inventor  who'd  sell  his  soul  to 
have  his  invention  taken  up.    A  million  dol " 

The  phrase  called  back  an  echo  in  the  girl's  mind. 
"I'd  sell  my  soul!"  What  man  had  used  those  words 
to  her  that  day — an  hour  ago  ?'...♦ 
•  Marise  laughed  out  aloud.  "An  inventor!"  she  ex- 
claimed. "Oh,  it's  easy  to  generalise — to  suggest 
someone — anyone — vaguely,  in  a  world  of  men.  But  if 
I  should  name  one — if  I  should  say,  'Here's  the  man,' 
you  would  shudder.  The  thought  of  him  in  flesh  and 
blood  as  my  husband — dummy  or  no  dummy — would 
drive  you  mad — if  you  really  love  me." 

"I  wouldn't  let  it  drive  me  mad,"  Severance  swore. 
"I'd  control  myself — and  control  the  man,  too." 


SOMETHING  OUT  OF  ANCIENT  ROME     93 

"You  would?  Suppose  I  name  your  bete  noire, 
Major  John  Garth  ?" 

Severance  withered  visibly.  "Garth  wouldn't  do  it," 
he  stammered. 

"There  you  are!"  sneered  Marise.  But  she  began 
to  experience  a  very  extraordinary  sensation.  It  was 
composed  of  obstinacy,  anger,  vanity,  recklessness,  re- 
sentment, and  several  fierce  sub-emotions,  none  of  which 
she  made  the  slightest  effort  to  analyse.  Tony  Sever- 
ance believed  that  his  passion  for  her  excused  every- 
thing, because  he  thought  it  stronger  than  any  other 
man  livingJiad  ever  felt.  But  there  was  another  man, 
one  at  least — who  thought  and  said  the  same  thing  of 
himself. 

Much  as  Tony  hated  and  pretended  to  despise  John 
Garth,  without  stopping  to  reflect  an  instant  he  set  the 
Bounder  aside  as  one  among  a  few  men  who  wouldn't 
stoop — who  couldn't  be  tempted — to  play  so  low  a  part 
as  that  of  a  "dummy  husband."  Was  Tony  right  ?  Or 
was  the  man  he  discarded  the  very  one  who  would 
marry  her  at  any  price?  Dimly  she  wondered  in  a 
sullen  and  heavy  curiosity. 

"There  axe  plenty  of  other  fellows — of  sorts — to 
choose  from,  without  dragging  in  Garth,"  Severance 
went  on.  "Give  me  leave,  Marise  (give  me  new  life, 
by  giving  me  leave !),  to  find  such  a  man.  If  I  must  go 
without  finding  one  here,  I  will  search  England.  Or  I 
can  put  it  in  the  hands  of " 

"No !"  shrilled  Mary.    "In  no  hands  but  our  own." 

"I  wash  mine  of  it !"  cried  Marise. 

"Perhaps  you  will  think  it  over — the  pros  and  cons 
— with  me,  dear,"  coaxed  her  mother.  "The  wonderful 
future  you  could  have  with  Tony,  when  the  clouds 
should  pass  and  all  those  millions " 


9*  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

The  girl  shrugged  her  shoulders.  And  turning  with- 
out another  word,  she  whirled  away  to  her  room.  It 
would  not  have  been  true  to  nature  if  she  hadn't 
slammed  the  door! 

Mary  prepared  to  follow.  "Go,  Tony,"  she  ordered. 
"Leave  the  poor  child  to  me.  All  this  is  awful — 
terrible !  But  it  isn't  as  if  we  were  wishing  for  Miss 
Ionides'  death.  If  she's  doomed  .  .  .  Oh,  I  hear 
Marise  crying!    Go  at  once — please!" 


CHAPTEK  X 

THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN" 

MAEISE  and  Mary  Sorel  talked  late  that  night  in 
the  girl's  room.  The  family  breadwinner — 
always  indulged — had  not  been  so  petted,  so  spoiled, 
since  she  waiTthreatened  with  grippe  in  the  first  week 
of  her  great  London  triumph.  In  those  days  she  had 
shone  as  a  bright  planet  rather  than  a  fixed  star.  The 
proud  but  anxious  mother  had  feared  that  some  under- 
study might  mine  the  new  favourite's  success,  as  Marise 
had  mined  the  toppling  fame  of  Elsa  Fortescue.  The 
invalid  had  been  surrounded  with  the  warmth  of 
mother-love,  caressed,  almost  hypnotised  back  to  health, 
and  after  a  worrying  day  of  high  temperature  had 
been  encouraged  to  the  theatre  without  giving  the  un- 
derstudy even  one  night's  chance.  This,  although  that 
young  woman  was  dressed  and  painted  for  the  part ! 

So  it  was  again  on  this  fateful  Sunday  in  New  York, 
although  the  most  wily  Yivien  of  an  understudy  could 
now  safely  be  defied. 

Mary  went  in  to  Marise  the  moment  Severance  had 
gone.  She  kissed  and  cooed  over  her  child.  She  flat- 
tered her.  She  told  her  that  she  was  beautiful  and 
brave — too  beautiful !  Men  loved  her  too  much.  Mums 
warded  off  an  impending  attack  of  hysterics  which 
Marise  had  been  longing  to  have,  and  would  have  en- 
joyed. She  said  that  her  girl's  tears  burned  her  heart. 
She  kept  Celine  away  and  undressed  Marise  herself, 

95 


96  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

with  purrings  and  pettings  as  if  the  girl  had  been  three 
instead  of  twenty-three. 

Never  was  a  bed  so  sweetly  smoothed  to  the  downi- 
ness of  a  swan's  breast!  The  pillows  were  plumped 
almost  with  a  prayer,  that  they  might  yield  soft  rest 
to  the  aching  head.  Finally,  Marise — conscious  of  all 
Mums'  guile,  yet  dreamily  content  with  it — was  tucked 
in  between  the  scented  sheets,  her  "nighty"  put  on  by 
Mums ;  her  long  hair  brushed  and  braided  by  Mums,  as 
no  French  maid  could  ever  braid  or  brush. 

"Don't  think  of  anything  yet,"  the  loving  voice 
soothed.  "Just  bask,  and  let  your  poor  old  Mums  watch 
over  you.  Forget  you're  grown  up.  Be  Mummie's 
baby  girl  again." 

Marise  was  not  of  a  temperament  to  hold  out  against 
these  charms  and  woven  spells.  She  cuddled  down  in 
bed,  and  felt  an  angel  child.  When  Mums  herself 
brought  in  a  tray  containing  a  few  exquisite  little 
dishes,  she  ate,  though  she  had  expected — even  intended 
— to  starve  herself  for  days.  Then  when  one  glass  of 
iced  champagne  (she  didn't  touch  wine  twice  a  year) 
and  a  tiny  cup  of  Turkish  coffee  had  brightened  her 
spirits,  "poor  old  Mums"  (looking  thirty-five  at  most, 
and  mild  as  a  trained  dove)  brought  cigarettes  for  both. 
After  that,  they  drifted  into  talk  of  the  future,  rather 
than  driving  stormily  into  the  teeth  of  it,  like  tempest- 
tossed  leaves. 

Mary  confessed  that,  if  she  were  in  her  daughter's 
place,  it  would  be  anguish  to  give  up  such  a  wonderful, 
gorgeous  young  man.  And  then,  he  was  so  handsome ! 
No  one  could  compare  with  him  in  looks.  What  eyes ! 
They  were  pools  of  ink,  on  fire !  She  had  never  known 
what  tragedy  human  eyes  could  express  till  she  had 
gazed  into  those  of  Lord  Severance  to-day.     They  had 


THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN  97 

f rightened  her !  If  slie  hadn't  sent  the  man  away  with 
a  grain  of  hope  she  believed  that  by  this  time  he  would 
be  dead,  his  brains  blown  out.  One  didn't  take  such 
threats  from  most  people  seriously.  But  Tony  was 
different.  It  was  true,  as  he  said ;  love  was  his  life — 
love  for  this  one  dear  girl.  What  Mums  felt  was,  that 
she  couldn't  have  resisted  him,  at  her  daughter's  age. 
Few  women  could.    Few  women  would ! 

By  this  time,  Marise  being  ready  for  arguments,  her 
mother  engaged  in  a  fencing  match,  at  first  with  a  but- 
ton on  her  foil,  then  with  the  point  gleaming  bare. 
Boldly  she  talked  of  what  Severance  (enriched  by  his 
uncle  and  a  dead  wife's  will)  would  have  to  offer.  Was 
he,  and  all  that  would  be  his,  to  be  thrown  away  for  a 
scruple  ?    A  millionaire  earl  ?    A  unique  person'? 

About  two  a.m.  Marise  agreed  to  Mary's  many-times- 
reiterated  wish  that  she  would  "think  things  over"; 
and  promptly  fell  into  a  sleep  so  sound  that  she  looked 
like  a  beautiful  dead  girl. 

Miss  Marks  was  sent  away  next  morning  by  Mrs. 
Sorel,  because  "My  daughter  has  had  a  bad  night,  and 
mustn't  be  disturbed."  It  was  not  until  eleven  o'clock 
that  Marise  waked  suddenly  in  her  darkened  room,  as 
if  a  voice  had  called  her  name.  She  sat  up  in  bed, 
dazed.  Whose  voice  was  it  ?  Or  was  it  only  a  voice  in 
a  dream  ?  Thinking  back,  it  came  to  her  that  she  had 
been  dreaming  of  John  Garth — "Samson."  With  an 
"Oh!"  that  revolted  against  life  as  it  must  be  lived, 
she  flung  herself  down  again,  and  remembered  every- 
thing. For  an  hour  her  body  lay  motionless :  but  mind 
and  soul  moved  far.  When  Mums  tapped  lightly  at  the 
door,  and  peeped  in  to  inquire,  "Do  you  feel  like  waking 
up,  pet,  and  having  me  bring  you  a  cup  of  delicious  hot 
coffee?    It's  twelve  o'clock!"    she   answered   quietly, 


98  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Yes,  I've  been  awake  a  long  time.  I'd  love  some 
coffee." 

Mary  brought  it  herself — and  a  covered  plate  of 
buttered  toast.  She  asked  no  question  except,  "Is  your 
head  better,  darling  ?"  until  pale,  composed  Marise  had 
bathed,  and  been  dressed  with  the  aid  of  Celine.  Then 
Mums  chirped  cheerfully,  "Well,  what  are  you  going 
to  do  to-day  ?    Anything  important  ?" 

"It  may  be  important,"  said  Marise.  "I  don't  know 
yet — till  I've  talked  with  him.  It  depends  on  what  he 
says.  He  may  say  nothing.  He  may  just  bash  me  over 
the  head  and  stalk  away.    He'd  be  capable  of  that." 

"What  do  you  mean?"  Mary  implored.  "Are  you 
speaking  of  Tony  ?" 

"Oh  no !  Of  a  very  different  man.  Of  Major  Garth." 

"Marise !    What  are  you  going  to  do  ?" 

The  girl  turned  from  her  dressing-table  to  face  her 
mother.  "What  you've  been  goading  me  on,  all  last 
night,  to  do.  What  I  shall  be  perfectly  mad  if  I  do 
do !  Now,  please,  don't  say  any  more — unless  you  want 
me  to  scream.  I'm  keeping  myself  calm.  I'd  better 
stay  calm — till  after." 

Mary's  breast  heaved.  She  breathed  back  her  emo- 
tions, as  one  checks  a  cough.  "You — talk  the  way  you 
sometimes  do  after  a  dress  rehearsal!"  she  tried  to 
laugh.    "Before  a  big  first  night." 

"That's  the  way  I  feel,"  said  Marise.  "Like  before 
the  biggest  first  night  that  ever  was.  Or  before  the 
Judgment  Day." 

She  knew  that  John  Garth  was  staying  at  the  Bel- 
more.  She  had  seen  that  item  in  the  papers — had  seen 
it  in  the  same  day's  papers  which  had  informed  Garth 
that  Miss  Sorel  was  an  actress.  The  girl  began  a  letter, 
but  tore  it  up.   Then  she  thought  of  the  telephone.   Two 


THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN    99 

minutes  later  she  heard  Garth's  voice :    "Hello !  who  is 
this  talking?" 

"Marise  Sorel — calling  you  from  the  Plaza.  Can 
you  come  over  V9 

"Yes.    When?" 

"Now." 

"I'll  b©  there  as  soon  as  a  taxi  can  bring  me." 

"Good!" 

Yet  she  knew  that  it  was  far  from  good. 

•  «....• 

"The  Spring  Song!— The  Spring  Song!" 

The  name  of  Marise  Sorel's  play  sang  itself  over 
and  over  in  Garth's  brain  to  wild,  strange  music,  as  the 
taxi  flashed  him  to  the  Plaza;  for  there  was  spring  in 
the  air,  in  the  bursting  buds  on  the  trees  in  the  park — 
and  in  his  breast.  She  must  have  changed  her  mind. 
She  must  mean  to  give  him  some  hope,  or  she  wouldn't 
have  sent  for  him  to  come  back.  That  would  be  too 
cruel — even  for  her,  as  he  had  thought  her  yesterday, 
when  there  was  no  spring,  only  winter  in  his  heart  and 
soul. 

It  was  not  till  he  had  been  rushed  up  in  the  lift,  and 
a  page-boy  had  knocked  at  the  door,  that  the  hope 
seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  Perhaps  she  merely  wished 
to  apologise  for  being  rude  ?  Yet — even  that  would  be 
better  than  nothing.  It  was  what  he  hadn't  dared  ex- 
pect— being  sent  for  again.  He  had  resolved  to  see  her 
in  spite  of  herself,  but  she  was  making  things  easy. 
This  time,  not  Celine,  but  Marise  herself  opened  the 
door.  The  sight  of  her  gave  the  man  a  shock  of  joy, 
though  she  hardly  looked  him  in  the  face. 

"You're  very  kind  to  be  so  prompt,"  she  glossed  over 
the  surface  of  their  emotions.  "Come  in.  I — I've 
something  special  to  say  to  you." 


100  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"So  I  judged/'  lie  helped  her  out. 

"We  shan't  be  disturbed  by  anyone  to-day.  I've 
arranged  that." 

"I'm  glad." 

She  sat  down  with  her  back  to  the  light  and  made 
him  take  a  chair  facing  the  window.  He  knew  too  little 
of  women  to  realise  that  this  was  deliberate;  but  he 
noticed  that  she  seemed  more  of  a  woman,  less  of  a  girl 
to-day.  Perhaps,  he  thought,  this  was  because  she  wore 
a  black  dress.  It  was  filmy  and  becoming  to  her  fair- 
ness; but  it  made  her  graver,  more  dignified.  As  for 
Marise,  she  liked  his  looks  better  this  afternoon.  He 
had  not  had  time  to  "dress  himself  up" ;  and  his  morn- 
ing suit  of  tweed  was  not  objectionable.  She  remem- 
bered once  arguing  with  Severance  that  the  "Blighter" 
might  be  distinguished-looking,  even  handsome,  if 
decently  dressed.  She  was  in  a  fair  way  to  be  proved 
right  to-day,  but  she  was  in  no  mood  for  self -congratu- 
lation. The  man's  personality  didn't  matter  in  the 
least,  she  told  herself.  Yet  she  was  subconsciously 
burning  with  curiosity  concerning  him. 

"First  of  all — before  we  start  on  our  real  talk,  I'd 
like  to  ask  you  a  question,"  she  began.  "Did  you  send 
Miss  Marks  here,  to — "  ("to  spy,"  she  had  almost  said  ty 
— "to  try  and  get  work  as  my  secretary  ?" 

"I  did  not,"  promptly  replied  Garth. 

"But  you  knew  her— before  yesterday." 

"I  knew  her  out  in  Arizona,  before  the  war.  She'd 
written  me  since  she  was  working  at  the  Belmore. 
That  was  how  I  happened  to  think  of  going  there  before 
I  went  over  to  England  in  1914.  She's  a  good  stenog- 
rapher, and  a  good  girl.  Since  I  landed  she's  done  a 
lot  of  letters  for  me,  and  done  them  very  well." 

"She's  clever !"  admitted  Marise.    "I  asked,  because 


THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN  101 

I  never  quite  understood  how  she  happened  to  come  here 
to  see  if  I  wanted  a  secretary.  Besides,  there's  .£$p&?r> 
thing  in  her  maimer — the  way  ste  looks  at  me1-! 
hardly  know  what — but  as  if  she  had  reasons  of  her 
own  for  being  interested " 

"Perhaps  she  had.  And  perhaps  it's  my  fault," 
Garth  spoke  out.  "You  see,  I'd  set  my  heart  on  sending 
you  a  few  presents,  something  not  just  ordinary.  It 
popped  into  my  head  to  do  that  the  day  I  landed. 
Beading  about  you  in  the  papers  gave  me  the  idea. 
But  it  didn't  seem  easy,  when  it  came  to  choosing.  Miss 
Marks  began  work  for  me  that  same  afternoon,  for  I 
had  a  heap  of  back  correspondence,  and  I  hate  writing. 
I  couldn't  keep  my  mind  on  the  dictation  for  wondering 
what  I  could  send  you,  different  from  everything  and 
better  than  anything.  That's  how  I  said  to  myself, 
'Why  not  ask  Zelie  Marks  what  there  is  to  buy  in  New 
York  ?'    And  that  is  what  I  did." 

"I  thought  as  much !"  exclaimed  Marise. 

"But  I  didn't  tell  her  about  you.  I  didn't  mention 
who  the  things  were  for.  I  just  described  the  lady.  I 
said,  'She's  beautiful,  with  golden  hair  and  blue  eyesr 
and  dark  eyelashes  and  dazzling  white  skin.  She's  tall 
and  slender,  and  I  expect  she's  rich  and  has  everything 
she  wants.  The  things  I'd  like  to  give  her  must  be  so 
new  she  hasn't  had  time  to  want  them  yet,  but  so 
stunning  she  won't  know  how  she  lived  without  'em.' 
Miss  Marks  hit  on  the  right  stunt  from  the  first.  Your 
name  has  never  been  spoken  between  us  till  yesterday, 
when  we  went  out  of  this  room  together.  I  suppose  you 
believe  me,  don't  you  ?" 

"Yes,  I  believe  you,"  Marise  grudged.  "Miss  Marks 
simply  guessed.    But  I  wonder  how  ?    Could  she  have 


102  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

seen  your  theatre  tickets — seats  for  every  performance 
of  -The  Song'  ?"    • 

''By  George,  yes!  She  may — must  have  dona  I 
ordered  them  the  first  day  at  my  hotel.  They  were  in  a 
bunch,  tickets  for  three  weeks,  fastened  with  an  elastic 
band,  on  the  desk  where  she  worked.  I've  got  a  private 
sitting-room,  like  a  howling  swell." 

"So  Miss  Marks  chose  all  those  exquisite  things !" 

"She  told  me  about  'em,  and  where  to  look.  Then  I 
went,  and  picked  out  in  my  mind's  eye  what  I  wanted. 
I  always  had  a  messenger-boy  waiting  in  a  taxi,  and 
sent  him  in  to  buy,  and  pay  on  the  spot,  for  fear  some- 
one else  should  jump  in  ahead.  That  kept  up  the  mys- 
tery. I  didn't  care  to  have  you  find  out  at  once  that 
the  things  came  from  me.  I  was  afraid  it  would  queer 
the  whole  business  for  you." 

"So  it  would!"  Marise  might  have  capped  him. 
But  she  did  not.  Instead,  she  asked,  "But  surely  you 
meant  me  to  know  sooner  or  later — or  where  would  be 
the  fun?" 

"There  was  plenty  of  fun  in  sending  the  presents  and 
knowing  the  secret  myself,"  said  Garth.  "Silly,  I 
guess !  But  there  it  was !  And — I  might  as  well  tell 
you  now — I  did  kind  of  hope  you'd  try  to  get  at  the 
truth,  one  way  or  another,  just  from  pure  devilment." 

"You  were  right.  I  did!  'Just  from  pure  devil- 
ment.' In  the  same  way  that  Miss  Marks  got  work  with 
me.    She  must  have  been  enjoying  herself  these  days!" 

"She's  a  nice  girl,"  Garth  defended  the  absent. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mean  to  discharge  her.  There's  no 
reason  why  I  should.  She's  useful  to  me.  I  shan't 
seem  to  know  anything  about  this.  But  I  wanted  to 
ask  you." 

"I'm  mighty  pleased  you  did,"  said  the  man.     "I'd 


THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN  10S 

have  been — just  what  your  friend  calls  me,  if  I'd  sent 
her  to  get  an  engagement  with  you." 

Colour  stole  into  Marise's  pale  cheeks.  She  had  been 
more  interested  in  the  subject  of  her  secretary's  con- 
nection with  Garth  than  she  had  expected  to  be  when 
bringing  it  up,  and  for  a  few  minutes  had  actually 
forgotten  the  loathed  burden  on  her  heart, 

"Let's  say  no  more  about  Miss  Marks!"  the  girl 
exclaimed.  "My  inviting  you  to  call  to-day  had  noth- 
ing to  do  with  her.    I  only  thought  I'd — clear  the  air." 

"Is  it  cleared  now?"  Garth  wanted  to  know.  "I 
hope  it  is.    If  not " 

"Oh,  it  is— quite!" 

"Then  you're  ready  to  tell  me  the  real  thing  you  have 
to  say?"  ' 

"Ye-es.  .  .  .  Only  I  .  .  ."  She  paused.  Her  lips 
had  gone  so  dry  that  she  could  hardly  speak.  Her  brain 
felt  dry,  too — desiccated.  She  had  not  thought  it  would 
be  like  this.  Stage-fright — the  worst  attack  of  stage- 
fright  she  could  remember — had  not  been  worse.  Yet 
she  cared  little  or  nothing  for  this  man's  opinion,  she 
reminded  herself,  except  as  it  concerned  the  plan.  "I 
— it's  very  difficult." 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do  to  help?"  he  offered 
eagerly. 

Marise  caught  at  his  words.  "That's  just  it !  There's 
a  very  big  thing  you  can  do  to  help." 

"You  know  I'll  do  it,"  Garth  volunteered.  "You 
know  that,  because  there's  nothing  I  wouldn't  do.  I 
told  you  so  yesterday." 

"If  you  hadn't,  I  should  not  have  sent  for  you  to- 
day." 

"I  wish  you  wanted  me  to  kill  somebody  for  you 


>j 


104  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

(She  guessed,  by  the  fierce  gleam  in  his  eyes,  what 
"body"!)     "I'd  go  to  'the  chair'  singing." 

"Oh !"  she  laughed  feebly.  "It's  not  as  bad  as  that." 
(But  wasn't  it?)  "You — you  said  several  things  here 
yesterday  afternoon.    One  was,  that  you " 

"That  I  love  you !    Was  that  what  you  mean  ?'" 

"Yes." 

"Well,  it's  the  same  to-day.    Only  more  so." 

"Even  after — I'm  afraid  I  was  very  selfish  and 
thoughtless.  I  wasn't  as  nice  to  you  as  I  ought  to  have 
been,  after  I'd  got  you  to  come,  and — and " 

"You  weren't  nice  to  me  at  all,"  Garth  gave  her  the 
truth  bluntly.  "I  went  away  trying  to  hate  you,  but  I 
didn't  bring  it  off.  Hate,  if  it  starts  from  love,  is  a 
good  deal  like  a  boomerang,  I  guess.  It  comes  back  to 
what  it  was  born  from.  And  the  friction  stirs  up  the 
flame  till  it's  hotter.  Now,  tell  me  that  thing  I  can  do 
for  you.  Because  the  quicker  I  hear  what  it  is,  the 
quicker  I  can  set  about  it." 

Marise  threw  up  her  head  and  drew  in  a  long  breath. 
She  might  have  done  the  same  if  she  had  come,  with  a 
running  jump,  to  the  edge  of  a  precipice. 

"Would  you — like  to  marry  me  ?"  she  gasped. 

The  man  bounded  from  his  chair,  and  with  a  stride 
landed  himself  beside  her.  He  had  knocked  over  a 
smaller  chair  on  the  way,  but  this  time  he  was  un- 
troubled by  his  clumsiness.  He  grabbed,  rather  than 
took,  the  girl's  hand.  She  was  afraid  he  would  drop  on 
his  knees,  and  that  would  have  been  more  than  she 
could  bear,  because  it  was  what  Severance  had  done. 
But  this  stiff-backed  soldier  kept  to  his  feet.  He  held 
her  hand  high,  so  high  that  the  blood  drained  from  it  to 
her  heart,  and  the  little  hand  was  white  in  his  (save  for 
the  pink,  polished  nails)  as  a  marble  model.     "You've 


THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN  105 

changed  your  mind?"  he  asked  hoarsely — because  his 
mouth,  too,  was  suddenly  dry.  "You  know  I  love  you 
more  than  any  other  man  could.  So  you  think,  after 
all,  you  might  grow  to  care?" 

"It  isn't  that,"  she  had  to  tell  him.  "I  haven't — 
exactly — changed  my  mind.  This  hasn't  anything  to 
do  with  'caring.'  Only,  if  you  do  love  me — as  much 
as  you  say — you  might  be  willing  ..."  She  could  not 
finish.  She  felt  his  fingers  suddenly  tighten  on  hers, 
then  loose  them,  as  if  he  would  dash  her  hand  away. 
He  did  not  do  this.  But,  looking  up,  the  girl  saw  that 
the  man's  face  was  scarlet.  She  even  thought  that  a  few 
beads  of  sweat  had  broken  out  on  his  forehead.  What 
had  she  said  to  move  him  like  that  ?  Why,  she  hadn't 
even  begun! 

"What  is  it?"  she  inquired.  "What  is  it  you  think 
I  mean?"  Her  eyes  were  large  and  innocent  as  a 
child's. 

The  blood  ebbed  slowly  from  the  weathered  face. 
"Whatever  I  thought,  I  don't  think  it  now,"  he  said 
harshly.    "No  one  could,  and  look  at  you.    Go  on." 

"But,"  she  argued,  "perhaps  what  you  thought  was 
right.     I  can't  be  sure,  unless  you  tell  me." 

"I'd  sooner  die  than  tell  you." 

"Well,  then  I  had  better  try  and  tell  you  what  I  do 
mean.  After  that  you  can  see  if  your  thought  was  the 
same.  If  so,  and  you  feel  it  is  so  dreadful,  you  may  go, 
and  turn  your  back  on  me  without  another  word." 

"No,  I  wouldn't  turn  my  back  on  you.  Not  even 
for  that — now."  The  words  left  his  lips  heavily,  like 
falling  stones ;  and  there  was  a  strange  look  in  his  face. 
If  it  had  come  there  in  battle,  it  might  have  meant 
desperate  courage  which  nothing  could  daunt  and  would 
have  brought  him  a  bar  for  his  Victoria  Cross.     But 


106  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

being  in  a  hotel  salon,  with  no  enemy  present  more 
dangerous  than  a  beautiful  young  girl,  it  was  only 
mulish. 

"Would  you  want  to  marry  me  if  I  didn't  love  you 
one  bit,  and  if  we — didn't  live  together,  except  as 
friends?  You  and  mother  and  I,  all  in  the  same 
house?" 

He  did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  Then  he  rapped 
out,  "Do  you  need  a  husband  to  protect  you — against 
some  danger?" 

Marise  shook  her  head.  "It  isn't  so  romantic  as 
that.  No  one  is  persecuting  me.  I — cared  a  little  for 
somebody.  I  thought  maybe  he  and  I  might  be  mar- 
ried. But  things  have  altered  with  him.  He  has  to 
marry  a  very  rich  girl.  I  haven't  got  money  enough, 
it  seems — although  he  loves  me." 

"The  damned  brute!"  burst  from  Garth.  (He  knew 
who  the  "brute"  was,  well  enough.) 

"Don't  call  him  that,"  Marise  pleaded.  "I  under- 
stand how  things  are  with  him.    But " 

"I  suppose  people  have  coupled  your  names.  Good 
God,  I'm  thankful  you  sent  for  me !  No  one  shall  ever 
say  he  jilted  you.  It  shall  be  the  other  way  round. 
When  will  you  marry  me,  girl  ?" 

It  was  a  new  and  piercing  thought  to  Marise  that,  if 
Severance  went  home  immediately  and  married  his 
cousin,  people  would  suppose  she  had  been  jilted.  She, 
so  sensitive  to  every  breeze  which  blew  praise  or  blame, 
ought  to  have  realised  that  this  would  be  the  case. 

Strange  that  it  needed  a  blundering  fellow  like  John 
Garth  to  point  out  the  peril.  The  girl  saw  at  once  that 
it  was  a  real  one.  She  shrank  from  the  prospect  as  from 
a  lash.  She  could  hear  the  "cats"  who  had  already 
been  "horrid"  in  England,  and  the  cats  awaiting  their 


[THE  THING  SHE  COULD  NOT  EXPLAIN  107 

chance  to  be  horrid  in  New  York,  mewing  with  joy  over 
this  creamy  dish  of  scandal. 

"I  told  you  how  it  would  be !  As  soon  as  he  got  the 
title,  and  a  little  money  with  it,  he  threw  her  over!" 

In  a  flasii  she  saw  a  second  motive  for  her  marriage 
with  Garth,  if  Severance  were  to  marry  (Enone  Ionides. 
She  must  marry  someone,  and  she  hadn't  the  heart 
just  now  to  pick  and  choose  as,  of  course,  she  could  do, 
given  a  little  time.  Prickling  with  shame  over  the  ex- 
planation which  she  tried  stumblingly  to  make,  her  im- 
pulse was  to  catch  at  the  one  Garth  offered.  Why  not, 
since  now  that  she  thought  of  it,  his  point  of  view  was 
hers  ?  Pain  would  be  saved  for  both.  And  she  realised 
that  she  could  not  blurt  out  the  naked  truth  in  words. 
It  seemed  to  her  that,  if  she  attempted  to  do  so,  this 
rude  giant,  this  primitive  man  in  New  York  "ready- 
mades,"  would  kill  her,  as  he  had  already  suggested 
killing  Severance. 

"Then  you  consent  ?"  she  took  him  up. 

"Consent  ?  What  do  you  think  of  me  ?  Yes,  I  con- 
sent." 

"Only  to  be  friends  ?    You  understand  that  part  ?" 

"I  agree  to  that,  to  begin  with.  Because  I'm  so  mad 
about  you.     I'd  take  you  at  any  price." 

"To  'begin  with'  ?" 

"Till  I  can  make  you  care.  I'm  a  man  and  you're  a 
woman.    And  the  rest  may  come.    I'll  chance  it." 

"No.  You  mustn't  hope  for  that.  It  won't  come. 
I  don't  want  it  to  come." 

"Hope  isn't  easy  to  kill.  If  it  was,  I  guess  the  war 
wouldn't  have  ended  the  way  it  has.  You  don't  know 
how  I  love  you.  Why,  the  thought  even  of  calling  you 
'my  wife'  is — is  a  kind  of  glorious  shell-shock." 

He  laughed  out,  shyly  yet  violently,  like  a  boy :  and 


108  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

of  a  sudden  Marise  felt  sick  with  guilt.  "I  mustn't 
let  you  be  happy  I"  she  cried. 

"Why  not  ?  You  needn't  grudge  me  that.  But  you 
haven't  named  the  day  yet — Marise.  Lord !  The  thrill 
it  gives  me  to  say  'Marise'  to  your  face — the  way  I've 
been  saying  it  behind  your  back." 

"You  make  me  feel — a  little  beast!"  The  words 
spoke  themselves,  straight  out  of  her  conscience.  "I 
can't  fix  a  time  yet,  because — if  I'd  explained  to  you 
properly  you  mightn't  have  decided  as  you  have.  And 
it's  no  use  trying  any  more.  I  can't  do  it.  Oh!" 
(as  she  saw  his  face  flush  again,  and  pale  to  a  sickly 
brown)  "perhaps  I  see  what  was  in  your  head  at  first 
— what's  come  back  there  now.  But  I'm  not  so  much 
of  a  beast  as  that.  My  wishing  to  marry  someone  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  past.  No,  the  reason's  all  mixed 
up  with  the  future.  You  could  never  guess.  I  could 
never  explain.  And  I  couldn't  let  you  marry  me  unless 
everything  had  been  explained.  I  thought  for  a  minute 
I  could — and  I  wanted  to — but  I  find  I'm  not  like  that. 
Tony — Lord  Severance — must  explain.  Yes,  of  course. 
When  I've  telephoned — no,  written  to  him — he  will  do 
it.  I  haven't  really  spoken  to  him  of  you  yet.  He 
doesn't  even  know  that — you  care  about  me.  If  I  make 
an  appointment,  will  you  call  at  the  Waldorf,  where  he 
is  staying  ?" 

"No!"  Garth  exploded.  "That  I  will  not  do.  I'll 
see  Severance,  if  you  insist.  I'll  keep  an  appointment 
at  any  time.  But  it  must  be  at  my  hotel.  I'm  damned 
if  I'll  call  on  him!" 


CHAPTER  XI 

EVERY  MAN"  HAS   HIS  *RICE 

THE  note  Marise  meant  to  write  was  not  written; 
for,  as  the  door  of  the  suite  shut  behind  John 
Garth,  Mrs.  Sorel  came  to  the  girl  with  news. 

"Dear  child,  I  promised  you  shouldn't  be  disturbed, 
whatever  happened,  but  Tony  has  been  telephoning  for 
the  sixth  time  to-day.  Poor  boy!  He's  very  anxious 
about  you.  Don't  look  so  cynical !  If  your  face  should 
ever  settle  into  lines  like  that,  your  beauty  would  be 
gone!  This  time  he  wanted  to  know  if  you're  better 
for  your  long  sleep,  and  if  you  can  see  him." 

"No,  I  can't,  mother !  ISTot  till  something's  decided. 
I  simply  can't  act  to-night  if  I  have  to  go  through 
another  scene  with  him." 

"Oh,  I'm  not  suggesting  it,  pet!  I  merely  wanted 
to  know  what  I  should  say  to  poor  Tony.  I  told  him 
that  I'd  call  him  up  and  give  him  his  answer  when 
you  were  free." 

Marise  started.  "Did  you  say  who  was  here  with 
me?" 

"Ye>-es,  I  thought  it  would  be  best.  I  imagined  you 
must  be  very  sure  the  man  was — the  one  we're  in  search 
of." 

The  girl  shivered.  "Marise  in  Search  of  a  Husband ! 
We  never  expected  it  would  come  to  that  with  me,  did 
we,  Mums?  But  anyhow,  I  hadn't  to  search  far. 
That's  one  consolation !  I  was  snapped  up  the  minute 
I  appeared  in  the  show  window." 

109 


110  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Well,  Tony  was  wrong  about  that  Garth  man, 
then!" 

"Yes,  he  was  wrong.  I  must  write  and  let  him 
know  why  Garth  came — unless  you  told  him  why  ?" 

"I  said  only  what  I  dared  say  through  the  telephone. 
You  know  how  careful  I  am  of  anything  that  concerns 

you.    What  I  told  him  was,  'Major  G 9  (not  even 

Garth!)  'has  come  to  talk  over  that  proposition  you 
thought  he  wouldn't  accept.  His  staying  so  long  makes" 
me  fancy  he  may  be  accepting  after  all.'  That  is  every 
word." 

"Good!  I  shan't  need  to  write!  Please  'phone 
again,  Mums,  and  explain  that  I  don't  feel  as  if  I  could 
see  Tony  till  after  the  theatre.  He  may  come  to  my 
dressing-room  a  few  minutes  then,  if  he  likes.  You  can 
bring  him  in.  I  won't  be  alone  with  him  for  an  instant ! 
Tell  him  that  I  talked  with  Garth,  who's  inclined  to 
accept.  But  I  left  it  to  him — Tony — to  make  matters 
clear,  and  he  must  telephone  Garth  for  an  appointment 
at  the  Belmore — not  the  Waldorf." 

"Severance  to  go  to  Garth !    He'll  refuse " 

"Then  the  whole  thing  is  off!"  Marise  threw  out 
her  arms  in  a  gesture  of  exasperation.  "He  can  take 
the  offer  or  leave  it." 

Mary  said  no  more,  but  flew  to  the  'phone  in  her  own 
room,  with  the  door  shut  between.  Presently  she 
came  back.  "Tony  has  consented,"  she  announced. 
"Another  proof  of  his  great  love !" 

•  •«•••• 

Never  had  Lord  Severance  felt  that  he  appeared  to 
less  advantage  than  when  he  was  shown  into  the  Boun- 
der's sitting-room  at  the  Belmore  Hotel.  He  held  him- 
self very  straight,  however,  and  was  every  inch  an 
Ancient  Greek,  if  not  an  English  earl. 


EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE  111 

Garth  had  been  engaged  in  writing  a  letter  and 
puffing  smoke  over  it  from  a  meerschaum  pipe  some 
shades  browner  than  his  face. 

At  sight  of  Severance,  and  the  sound  of  his  name 
deformed  by  a  page-boy,  the  big  man  rose,  topping  his 
tall  guest  in  height  and  erectness. 

"Well?"  was  his  only  greeting,  as  the  door  closed. 
He  pushed  a  box  of  cigarettes  across  the  table.  "Those 
are  the  smokes  you  prefer,  I  believe." 

"Thanks.     I  have  my  own.    And  my  own  matches." 

"All  right."    Garth  continued  to  puff  at  his  pipe. 

"You  have  seen  Miss  Sorel,  I  understand." 

"That  is  so." 

"She — or  rather  Mrs.  Sorel — 'phoned  me  that — er — 
though  you'd  had  some  conversation,  the — affair  hadn't 
been  entirely  explained  to  you.  That's  as  it  should  be. 
It's  my  business,  and  my  place,  to  explain  it." 

"Fire  away.    Do  you  want  to  sit  down  ?" 

"I  prefer  to  stand." 

"My  sentiments!" 

Severance  lit  a  cigarette,  and  took  some  time  in  the 
process. 

"It's  rather  a  long  story,"  he  drawled,  not  with  a 
conscious  desire  to  put  on  airs,  but  because  his  wasn't 
an  easy  task,  with  that  bounder's  yellow  eyes  pinning 
him  down,  never  off  his  face  for  a  second. 

"I'm  afraid,  to  make  you  understand  and  prevent 
your  doing  an  injustice  to  Miss  Sorel,  I'll  have  to  bore 
you,  in  beginning,  with  a  short  resume  of  my  personal 
history." 

"Spit  it  out.  Though  you  needn't  fear  my  doing  that 
lady  an  injustice.  It  would  take  something  worse  than 
a  lack  of  tact  on  your  part,  or  any  man's,  to  make  me 
such  a  fool." 


112  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Glad  you  feel  so  about  it." 

"So  ami.    Shoot!" 

Thus  prodded  without  ceasing,  Severance  began  the 
tale.  He  told  about  his  half -uncle,  and  his  half-uncle'fr 
daughter.  Whether  it  was  CEnone's  state  of  invalidism 
or  the  state  -of  her  affections  which  drew  from  Garth  a 
grunt  of  "Poor  girl!"  Tony  was  not  sure.  But,  in  the 
circumstances,  the  less  notice  he  took  of  disturbing 
trifles  the  better.  He  stated  his  case  with  as  much  care 
as  if  he  had  been  pleading  in  court,  as  his  own  de- 
fender. In  fact,  he  had  rehearsed  some  sentences  hastily 
on  his  way  from  the  Waldorf  to  the  Belmore.  Yet 
those  eyes  of  Garth's  were  as  disconcerting  as  the  watch- 
ful eyes  of  an  uncaged  panther,  alleged  to  be  tame. 
Severance  forgot  the  words  he  had  thought  of,  and  had 
to  substitute  others  not  so  effective.  With  the  most 
earnest  wish  to  cut  the  best  figure  possible,  for  dear 
dignity's  sake,  he  felt  himself  floundering  more  than 
once.  At  least,  however,  he  did  not  break  down.  Some- 
how he  got  to  his  goal,  and  knew  that  even  a  boor  like 
Garth  could  not  fail  to  see  what — if  he  took  on  the  job 
— was  required  of  him. 

"So  that's  that!"  Tony  finished,  and  threw  away  his 
cigarette. 

He  had  not  been  looking  at  the  other  man  much  as 
he  talked.  It  was  easier  and  pleasanter  not  to  do  so; 
but,  despite  Garth's  silence  (not  once  had  he  interrupted 
with  a  question  or  exclamation),  Severance  wasn't  quite 
sure  how  this  type  of  fellow  would  act  in  the  circum- 
stances. 

Of  course,  the  bare  hint  that  he  might  accept  such  a 
part  would  be  the  last  of  insults  to  a  proud  man — a 
gentleman.  Garth,  however,  was  merely  a  "temporary 
gentleman,"  and  probably  hadn't  saved  a  sou.     To  a 


EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE  113 

person  of  his  sort,  a  million  dollars  would  be  a  dazzling 
bribe.  Still,  the  brute  bad  an  ugly  temper,  as  be  bad 
sbown  once  or  twice  in  tbe  past,  and  be  was  capable  of 
violence.  Tony  was  doubtful,  still,  bow  to  take  bim. 
Common  as  tbe  Bounder  was,  bis  brother  officer  bad 
vaguely  placed  bim  a  peg  above  tbis  level.  The  black 
eyes  made  a  sudden  effort  to  dominate  tbe  yellow-grey 
ones  and  read  their  secret,  in  order — if  need  be — to 
ward  away  a  blow. 

But  there  was  no  such  need,  it  seemed.  Garth  stood 
with  feet  apart,  always  doggedly  puffing  at  his  pipe, 
hands  thrust  deep  in  pockets.  He  had  produced  a  cloud 
of  smoke  as  dense  as  that  which  emanated  from  a  Geni 
of  the  Lamp,  and  Severance  could  not  pierce  to  his 
expression. 

For  a  minute  neither  spoke.  Then  Garth  brought 
forth  from  the  depths  a  hand,  removed  the  meerschaum 
from  his  mouth,  and,  having  knocked  out  the  ash, 
lovingly  I?id  the  pipe  on  the  mantelpiece. 

Severance  stood  alert,  prepared  for  what  might  come. 
But  nothing  came. 

"What  did  Miss  Sorel  say  about  me?"  Garth  bluntly 
questioned.     "I  mean  yesterday  or  to-day." 

"We  have  scarcely  mentioned  you  when  we  were 
together.  I  told  you  it  was  her  mother  who  telephoned 
me.  There  has  been  no  other  communication  on  the 
subject.  I  hope  I've  made  it  plain  to  you  that  Mrs. 
Sorel  approves  this  plan." 

"Plain  as  a  pikestaff.  She  would  approve  of  it,  or 
any  plan  of  yours.  I  should  judge  she's  that  kind  of  a 
person.  She  thinks  her  daughter  born  for  the  English 
aristocracy  and  millions.  Then  I'm  to  understand  that 
the  ladies  gave  you  no  reason  for  believing  me  the  man 
— to  take  this  on  V9 


114  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"They  went  into  no  details.  Miss  Marks  may  have 
led  them " 

"We  can  drop  the  subject.  All  I  wanted  to  know  is 
what  they  said,  not  what  they  thought.  Well,  a  million 
dollars  is  quite  a  wad !  And  every  man  has  his  price.- 
Fd  do  a  lot  for  a  million.    But  in  this  case " 

"Yes?" 

"I  ask  you  to  raise  your  bid  if  you  wish  to  buy  yours 
truly." 

"Oh,  if  it's  a  question  of  a  few  thousands " 

"It  isn't.  I'll  take  the  rest  of  the  payment  in  another 
medium.     Not  money.     And  I  want  it  in  advance." 

"What  d'you  want?" 

"You're  a  boxer,  I  believe?" 

"Not  bad." 

"Heavy-weight,  of  course !" 

"Yes." 

"So  am  I.  Jim  Jackson  trained  me,  and  taught  me 
most  of  what  I  know." 

"Ah!    I've  heard  of  him." 

"Most  men  hava" 

"What  are  you  leading  up  to  ?" 

"My  advance  payment  for  the  job.  I  take  it  on  only 
upon  that  one  condition." 

"I  don't  fully  understand." 

"Well,  as  I  just  said,  a  million's  quite  a  wad,  and  I, 
like  every  man,  have  my  price.  Also,  I've  my  pride. 
Now,  you  don't  know  the  reasons  I  may  have  for 
deciding  to  pocket  that  pride  at  the  same  time  with 
your  millions.  Take  it  that  they're  mercenary.  What 
does  it  matter  to  you?  But  even  a  gilded  pill  slips 
down  easier  in  jam.  The  jam  I  want  is  a  round  or 
two  with  you,  man  to  man,  no  gloves.  Now  d'you 
understand  ?" 


EVERY  MAN  HAS  HIS  PRICE  115 


iC 


You  want  to  fight  me  ?" 

"A  little  round,  I  said.  We  ought  to  be  pretty  evenly 
matched." 

"It  seems  to  me  a  very  childish  idea,"  said  Severance. 

"May  be  it  is.  But  it's  my  idea.  And  those  are 
my  terms.    Refuse  or  accept." 

Severance  fingered  his  moustache  in  the  way  he  had. 
"When  do  you  want  to  do  this  damned  fool  thing,  and 
in  what  circumstances  ?"  he  hedged. 

"Now.  Circumstances  those  of  the  present  minute. 
We  can  take  off  our  coats.  I  suppose  you  don't  wear 
corsets  V} 

Severance  deigned  no  answer  to  this  taunt.  He 
thought  hard  for  an  instant.  He  was  a  good  boxer, 
and  had  been  complimented  before  the  war  by  Carpen- 
tier  himself.  Garth  was  unlikely  to  be  his  equal.  If 
the  ass  wanted  to  work  off  steam  and  save  his  beastly 
face  this  silly  way,  let  him ! 

"If  I  consent  to  fight,  you  consent  to — er " 

"Yes,  whether  you  or  I  get  the  best  of  this." 

"Done,  then!" 

They  tore  off  their  coats,  collars,  neckties,  and  waist- 
coats. Garth  had  a  sullen,  ugly  grin  on  his  face  as  he 
pushed  back  the  table  and  cleared  the  room.  Severance 
did  not  know  what  to  make  of  the  man,  but  had  con- 
fidence in  himself. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

Two  hours  later  the  telephone-bell  rang  in  Mrs. 
Sorel's  room.  She  was  putting  on  hat  and  coat  to  go 
to  the  theatre  with  Marise,  but  she  ran  to  take  up  the 
receiver. 

"Is  that  your  voice,  Lord  Severance — Tony?  Why, 
I  wasn't  sure  at  first,"  she  answered  an  indistinct  mur- 
mur at  the  other  end.     "You  sound  different,  some- 


116  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

how !  What  ?  You've  had  a  fall  ?  Loosened  a  front 
tooth?  Oh,  my  poor  dear  boy — your  beautiful  white 
teeth !  Marise  will  shed  tears.  Of  course,  you  mustn't 
leave  your  rooms  to-night.  .  .  .  Indeed,  you  must  be 
sure  he's  the  best  dentist  in  New  York.  He'll  fix  you 
up  in  no  time.  .  .  .  Why,  yes,  I  suppose  I  can  run  in, 
without  Marise,  just  for  a  minute  ...  if  it  would 
comfort  you  at  all.  .  .  .  The  man  Gar — said  'yes'  ? 
Well,  that's  a  consolation !  You  settled  the  whole  thing 
before  your  accident  ?  But  you'll  tell  me  the  story  when 
I  come." 

For  the  first  time,  Garth  did  not  go  to  the  theatre 
that  night.  Never  had  he  felt  more  physically  fit,  but 
he  did  not  wish  to  see  Marise.  He  felt  that  he  would 
not  be  master  of  himself,  through  her  "great  scene" 
in  the  last  act.  He  would  want  to  spring  on  the  stage 
and  choke  her.  As  he  thought  this,  he  looked  at  his 
knuckles.  They  were  cracked  and  bruised,  but  the 
sight  did  not  displease  him.  He  stretched  out  his  arms 
wide  in  a  sweeping  gesture,  his  hands  spread  palm 
upwards. 

"God!"  he  said.  "I've  got  my  chance.  To  punish 
him.  To  punish  her,  too.  Why  not  ?  The  devil  knows 
how  well  she  deserves  it.  And  yet — I  don't  know.  We 
shall  see!" 


u 


CHAPTER  XII 

HAVE  Y0TJB  CAKE  AND  EAT  IT,  TOO  V9 


WHILE  two  men  thought  violently  of  Mariso  Sorel, 
she  lay  in  bed  as  night  wore  on,  intent  upon 
thinking  of  one  of  them,  and  inadvertently  thinking 
of  both. 

Severance  hadn't  shown  himself  at  the  theatre  be- 
cause, thanks  to  Garth,  he  was  not  looking  his  best. 
Neither  was  Garth,  who,  on  the  contrary,  looked  and 
felt  his  worst.  Unlike  Severance,  however,  he  had  very 
little  personal  vanity ;  and  a  black  eye  or  so  would  not 
have  prevented  him  from  going  as  usual  to  gaze  at 
"Dolores."    He  did  not  go  because  he  didn't  wish  to  go. 

Smoking  pipe  after  pipe,  he  prowled  up  and  down 
his  own  sitting-room  far  into  the  night,  much  to  the 
annoyance  of  a  lady  on  the  floor  below.  He  mapped  out 
a  future  full  of  revenges ;  and  if  "thoughts  were  things," 
his  must  have  hurled  themselves  like  Mills  bombs  into 
Marise's  room,  to  burst  at  the  foot  of  her  bed.  He 
did  not  flatter  himself  that  they  would  reach  so  far ; 
yet  possibly  it  was  some  disturbing  telepathic  influence 
which  forced  Marise  to  think  of  Garth  as  often  as  of 
Severance,  almost  as  often  as  she  thought  of  herself. 

She  thought  with  fury  of  Severance,  with  extraordi- 
nary curiosity  of  Garth,  and  with  pitying  forgiveness  of 
herself. 

Of  course,  she  knew  that  she  was  behaving,  or  plan- 
ning possibly  to  behave,  in  a  way  which  should  bow 

117 


118  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

her  head  with  shame.  Perhaps  she  was  a  little  ashamed. 
At  all  events,  she  wouldn't  have  liked  people  to  know 
what  she  contemplated  doing,  and  with  what  motive. 
They  might  misunderstand.  They  might  think  her  a 
bad  lot,  whereas  she  was  not  a  had  lot,  but  a  charming, 
cruelly-wounded  girl  who  had  to  defend  herself  at 
almost  any  price. 

Well,  she  wasn't  claiming  to  be  an  angel!  She'd 
hate  to  be  one.  It  would  be  too  dull.  But  she  was 
just  as  far  from  being  a  "Vamp,"  or  even  a  sort  of  up- 
to-date  Becky  Sharp.  Becky  Sharp  had  no  heart. 
She,  Marise,  had  too  much.  That  was  the  trouble.  She 
was  hurt,  hurt  through  and  through!  She'd  go  mad 
if  she  didn't  do  something  desperate. 

To  marry  this  Garth  man — actually  marry  him! — 
would  be  desperate  enough.  She'd  said  that  she'd  do  it. 
She  had — yes,  actually  proposed  to  him.  But  she 
could  change  her  mind.  Surely  he  wouldn't  be  sur- 
prised if  she  did.  And  if  he  were  surprised  it  didn't 
matter,  except  that — he  was  such  a  strange  sort  of 
fellow,  he  might  kill  her!  It  was  rather  a  wonder  he 
hadn't  killed  Tony — or  tried  to.  She  would  somehow 
have  fancied  he  was  that  sort!  But  she  must  have  been 
mistaken  in  him.  Mums  said  that  Tony'd  said 
(through  the  'phone)  that  Garth  had  accepted  the  prom- 
ise of  a  million  dollars  f or — for  being  what  she'd  herself 
invited  him  to  be:  her  "dummy"  husband. 

What  was  his  motive  ?  Was  it  what  she  had  actually 
believed :  that  he  loved  her  so  wildly  he'd  do  anything 
to  get  her?  Or  was  Tony  right;  had  every  man  his 
price  in  hard  cash  ?' 

Marise  sat  up  in  bed.    She  couldn't  lie  still ! 

"By  Jove,  I  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing  if  I  were  a 
man!"   she  nobly  felt.     "Not  if  I  loved  a  girl.     I 


"HAVE  YOUR  CAKE  AND  EAT  IT,  TOO!"  119 

wouldn't  have  her  on  such  terms.  Which  is  it  with 
Garth?" 

There  it  was  again !  She  couldn't  banish  him  from 
her  thoughts.  His  big  image  blocked  out  that  of 
Severance.  But  then,  she  wasn't  curious  concerning 
Severance.     She  knew  all  about  his  motives. 

"I  won't  do  the  beastly  thing!"  she  said  out  aloud, 
or  almost  aloud.  If  it  had  been  quite,  it  might  have 
brought  Mums  flying  helpfully  in  from  the  next  room, 
and  Marise  didn't  want  Mums  at  this  moment.  "I 
didn't  mean  it  really,  even  at  first." 

Then  she  reminded  herself  that  it  wouldn't  Mil  her  if 
people  did  think  that  Lord  Severance  had  jilted  her. 
She  needn't  marry  out  of  pique  because  of  a  nine  days' 
wonder  like  that.  She  had  had  plenty  of  proposals 
(though  nothing  quite  so  exciting  as  Tony,  perhaps), 
and  she  was  bound  to  have  plenty  more.  Some  mil- 
lionaire would  come  along — someone  she  could  bring 
herself  to  tolerate  as  a  real  husband,  and  so  break 
Tony's  heart,  as  he  deserved.  Till  one  worth  taking 
appeared,  she  would  remain  free. 

As  for  the  title — well,  Mums  had  always  cared  more 
about  that  than  she  had,  though,  of  course,  it  would  be 
nice  to  marry  an  earl — especially  such  a  unique  sort  of 
earl  as  Tony  Severance. 

As  Mums  said,  "Tony  was  unique."  He  was  so  fear- 
fully, frightfully  good-looking.  Such  lots  of  girls 
wanted  him.  They  had  all  envied  her.  If  she  lost  him, 
they  wouldn't  envy  her  any  more.  They'd  pity  her. 
TJgh!  They'd  say,  "Poor  Marise  Sorel  thought  she'd 
got  him,  but  he  slipped  away  and  married  his  rich 
cousin." 

This  brought  her  down  to  bed-rock  again.     Should 


120  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

she  carry  out  the  Plan,  and  make  Tony  hers  in  the  end 
— which  he  vowed  was  very  near? 

There  were  quite  a  lot  of  earls ;  but  none  like  Tony. 
She'd  had,  and  would  have,  other  chances.  But  not  to 
touch  Tony.  There  wasn't  anything  to  touch  Tony! 
And  with  all  that  money  he'd  talked  about,  he'd  be  a 
multi-millionaire.  The  whole  world  would  be  hers  as 
his  wife.  Yet — there  was  "many  a  slip  'twixt  cup  and 
lip."  Just  supposing — oh  well,  she  wouldn't  think  of  it 
any  more.  It  was  maddening,  agonising.  She'd  go  to 
sleep  and  decide — actually  decide — in  the  morning ! 

Marise  flung  herself  down  desperately,  and  burying 
her  hot  head  in  the  cool  pillows,  she  forced  herself  not 
to  think. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

When  she  waked,  it  was  with  the  sensation  that 
something  hateful  had  happened  or  was  going  to  hap- 
pen. 

What  was  it?    Oh!  .  .  . 

The  girl  remembered  the  horrid  thing,  and  how  she 
had  decided  to  keep  free  and  punish  Tony.  Or  had 
she  quite  decided  ?    Hadn't  she  put  off  deciding  ? 

How  dull  as  lead  it  would  be  to  give  up  this  tremen- 
dous adventure  to  which  she'd  impulsively  pledged — 
almost  pledged ! — herself !  It  might  be  a  shocking  and 
repulsive  thing  to  do  if  some  people  did  it,  but  it 
wouldn't,  of  course,  be  so  with  her. 

Lots  of  people  had  said  that  "Dolores"  was  a  coarse, 
unpleasant  part  when  Elsa  Fortescue  had  played  it,  but 
no  one  had  said  such  a  word  when  she  had  taken  it 
over.     On  the  contrary! 

As  this  thought  passed  through  her  badly  aching 
head,  Marise  dimly  realised  that  marriage  with  Major 
Garth — accepting  him  as  a  dummy  husband,  having  to 


"HAVE  YOUR  CAKE  AND  EAT  IT,  TOO!"  121 

fight  him,  perhaps;  "seeing  what  he  would  do,"  whether 
he  would  try  the  old  Claude  Melnotte  or  Petruchio 
stuff,  or  whether  he'd  work  up  new  business  of  his  own 
- — would  be  quite  the  most  exacting  emotional  part  for 
which  she'd  ever  been  cast. 

Suddenly  she  saw  how  she  could  punish  Tony  se^ 
verely,  even  though  she  fell  in  with  his  plans ;  how  she 
could  have  that  satisfaction,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
satisfaction  of  not  losing  him. 

"It's  like  having  your  cake  and  eating  it  too!"  she 
thought. 

She  would  marry  Garth.  She'd  marry  him  soon — 
much  sooner  than  Tony  meant — as  soon  as  a  license 
could  be  got.  She'd  send  for  Garth  and  tell  him  so. 
She'd  say  she  knew  no  more  about  marriage  licenses 
than  dog  licenses.  That  sounded  rather  smart!  He 
must  find  out  and  arrange  everything.  The  quicker  the 
better.  Tony  shouldn't  hear  a  thing  about  it  till  too 
late.  Then  he  would  be  sick!  And  in  this  way  he 
would  seem  to  be  the  jilted  one.  Splendid !  His  trip 
to  England  would  be  torture.  And  she'd  make  it  a 
little  worse  by  flirting  with  Garth  under  his  nose  before 
he  sailed! 

It  was  scarcely  light  when  she  settled  all  this.  Then 
she  could  hardly  wait  till  it  was  time  to  get  up. 

Strange !  To  many  people  this  would  be  a  day  like 
any  other!  To  Celine,  to  Zelie  Marks — ah,  Zelie 
Marks! 

The  eyes  of  Marise  flashed  like  blue  stars  in  the 
dawn. 


CHAPTEK  XIII 

"can  you  keep  a  secret  ?" 

MISS  MAUKS  was  punctual  that  morning,  as 
usual. 

She  looked  like  a  creature  of  moods  and  storms  and 
sudden  revolts,  but  her  behaviour  as  a  typist-stenog- 
rapher belied  her  appearance  as  a  woman.  Not  only 
was  she  always  on  time,  but  she  was  invariably  correct 
in  her  deportment.  Yes,  "deportment"  was  the  word ! 
No  other  would  have  enough  dignity  to  express  Miss 
Marks. 

As  a  rule,  Mrs.  Sorel  came  into  the  salon  soon  after 
the  arrival  of  the  secretary,  leaving  no  idle  interval 
after  the  preparation  of  paper,  pencils,  and  sorting  of 
letters.  Zelie  Marks  remembered  only  one  occasion 
when  Miss  Sorel  had  appeared  before  her  mother.  That 
was  the  day  when  she  was  anxious  to  find  a  certain 
letter  in  the  bulky  pile  of  correspondence,  and  make 
sure  that  no  eye  spied  it  save  her  own. 

Zelie  happened  to  be  thinking  of  that  affair  to-day, 
when  the  door  of  Marise's  bedroom  opened  and  a  Vision 
showed  itself  upon  the  threshold.  "Good  morning,  Miss 
Marks,"  it  said. 

"Good  morning,  Miss  Sorel,"  echoed  its  paid  em- 
ployee. 

The  said  employee  would  not  have  been  human  had 
she  never  felt  qualms  of  envy  of  the  Vision.  Some- 
times it  was  merely  a  negative  discomfort  like  a 
grumbling  tooth  that  doesn't  quite  ache.     Sometimes 

122 


"CAN  YOU  KEEP  A  SECRET  ?"  123 

it  was  sharply  positive;  and  this  was  such  a  moment. 
Queer !  Zelie  always  envied  Marise  most  when  she  saw 
the  girl  in  what  Mrs.  Sorel  called  "undress  uniform." 

There  were  few  young  women  even  among  wage- 
earners  who  couldn't  make  a  fairly  brave  show  in  a  neat 
tailor  gown  or  a  "Sunday  best"  for  Church  Parade. 
But  only  the  Truly  Eich  could  have  such  heavenly 
"undies/'  and  only  the  young  and  lovely — lovely  of 
figure  as  well  as  of  face — could  look  in  them  more 
thrilling  than  the  wondrous  wax  ladies  in  shop  windows, 
or  the  willowy  dreams  of  line-artists  in  fashion  maga- 
zines. 

Zelie  had  never  had,  and  felt  that  she  never  would 
have  (though  she  was  sure  she  ought  to  have!)  such 
things  as  Maxise  Sorel  wore  in  her  bedroom.  They  were 
utterly  absurd,  almost  indecent,  she  told  herself.  What 
could  be  more  idiotic  for  cold  weather  than  a  pale  pink, 
low-necked,  short-sleeved  chiffon  nightgown,  with  the 
only  solid  thing  about  it  a  few  embroidered  wild  roses ! 
What  more  brainless  than  a  robe  de  chairibre  of  deeper 
pink  silk  georgette,  trimmed  with  sable  fur  in  all  the 
places  where  fur  couldn't  possibly  give  warmth? 

She,  Zelie  Marks,  wore  comfortable  delaine  night- 
dresses at  this  time  of  year,  and  wadded  kimonos.  She 
respected  herself  for  her  economy  and  good  sense.  But 
she  wished  she  were  Miss  Sorel ! 

"Miss  Marks,"  said  Marise,  "can  you  keep  a  secret  ?" 

Zelie  smiled.  "In  my  work,  I  have  to  keep  a  good 
many." 

"I  suppose  you  do!  Well,  will  you  keep  one  for 
me?" 

"Certainly." 

"That's  a  promise !  Now — I  shall  surprise  you  very 
much." 


1U  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Zelie  smiled  politely,  and  waited. 

"I'm — going  to  be  married." 

"Pardon  me,  Miss  Sorel,"  said  Zelie,  in  rather  a 
stilted,  professional  manner,  "but  that  doesn't  surprise 
me  at  all." 

"You  haven't  heard  the  name  of  the  man  yet." 

"ISTo.    You  haven't  told  me  that." 

"You  mean,  you  believe  you've  guessed  ?" 

"I  hope  you  don't  think  me  presumptuous?" 

"Of  course  not!  Why  should  it  be — such  a  long 
word?  Guessing's  free!  But  I  wonder  if  you  have 
guessed  ?" 

Zelie  allowed  herself  to  look  slightly  bored.  If  Miss 
Sorel  were  going  to  be  married,  and  leave  for  England^, 
she  wouldn't  want  a  secretary  long,  so  there  was  no 
need  to  grovel!  "Do  you  wish  me  to  try?"  she  asked 
primly. 

"Yes." 

"The  Earl  of  Severance." 

Marise  had  known  she  would  say  that,  yet  she 
blushed.  "Lord  Severance  and  I  are  quite  old  pals," 
she  replied.  "This  is  something  much  newer  and  more 
exciting!  I'm  going  to  marry  your  friend  Major 
Garth." 

There  were  few  warmer-hearted  girls,  few  who  hated 
more  to  give  pain,  than  Marise,  yet  as  she  spoke  she 
fixed  her  eyes — minx-like,  if  not  lynx-like — on  the  face 
of  Miss  Marks.  Even  when  she  saw  it  go  pale — that 
greenish  pallor  of  olive  complexions — and  then  a  dull, 
unbecoming  red  which  gave  the  dark  eyes  a  bloodshot 
effect,  she  wasn't  conscious  of  repentance  for  what  she 
had  done.  She  had  an  odd,  unpleasant  feeling  that  Miss 
Marks  had  no  right  to  turn  pale  and  red  about  a  man 


"CAN  YOU  KEEP  A  SECRET?"  125 

she  was  going  to  marry.  So  instead  of  softening,  she 
went  on,  hard  as  nails. 

"Don't  forget  it's  a  great  secret.  I  want  to  spring  a 
surprise  on  everyone.  Will  you  please  'phone  him — 
Major  Garth — at  the  Belmore  for  me?  I  haven't  got 
time  now  to  call  him  myself.  Just  ask  him  to  come 
round  in  three-quarters  of  an  hour.  I'll  have  had  my 
coffee  and  be  dressed  by  then,  if  I  rush." 

"Very  well,  Miss  Sorel,"  agreed  Zelie,  controlling 
her  voice.  After  which  she  added,  "I  hope  you'll  allow 
tne  to  congratulate  you." 

Marise  laughed  a  funny  little  laugh.  "Thanks! 
But  doesn't  one  'wish  joy'  to  the  bride  and  'congratu- 
late' the  bridegroom  ?" 

By  this  time  Zelie  was  at  the  telephone,  but  she 
turned,  and  her  black  eyes  darted  at  Marise  one  small 
flame  of  the  fire  in  her  heart.  "I  wish  you  joy,  of 
course,"  she  said.  "But  I  must  congratulate  you  too, 
because  I've  known  Ja — Major  Garth  since  before  the 
war,  and  I  know  what  he  is.  He's  great!  If  you 
lumped  together  most  of  the  best  men  you've  met,  they 
wouldn't  make  one  John  Garth !" 

"Ha  ha!  he  is  very  big!"  giggled  Marise.  "Quite 
an  out-size." 

Zelie  could  have  boxed  the  ears  under  the  delicious 
boudoir  cap.    They  deserved  to  be  boxed ! 

"His  soul  is  big!"  the  older  girl  snapped.  "I  only 
hope  you — I  mean,  there  aren't  many  women  capable 
of  appreciating  him.  But,  of  course,  you  must  be,  or 
you  wouldn't  have  succumbed  to  him  so  soon." 

"Succumbed!"  Marise  flung  back  the  word  with 
just  the  least  shrug  of  her  shoulders.  For  an  instant 
the  two  glared  at  each  other,  though  "glare"  is  a  melo- 
dramatic word  which  doesn't  chime  well  with  nicely- 


126  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

brought-up  girls  in  the  twentieth  century.  When 
Marise,  as  a  child,  had  looked  at  anyone  in  that  way, 
she  called  it  "snorting  with  her  eyes." 

Now,  it  was  only  for  a  third  of  a  second.  Then  Miss 
Marks  applied  herself  to  the  telephone,  and  never  had 
her  neat  back  looked  so  square  and  business-like.  There 
was  no  more  time  to  waste  upon  useless  repartees  with 
a  secretary,  so  Marise  bolted  to  her  own  room. 

She  meant  and  wished  to  be  dressed  and  fed  in  three- 
quarters  of  an  hour,  but  never  had  she  quite  brought  off 
that  feat — at  least,  never  since  she'd  become  a  success- 
ful star;  and  she  didn't  quite  bring  it  off  now.  Her 
hair  was  being  done  when  Mums  tapped  and  entered 
upon  the  scene.  She  looked  grave  and  rather  worried, 
though  she  never  actually  frowned,  for  fear  of 
wrinkles. 

"That  man  Garth  has  come,"  she  announced  in  a  low 
voice.  "What  an  hour  for  a  call !  Do  you  wish  to  see 
him?" 

"I  sent  for  him,"  Marise  explained.  "Didn't  he  tell 
you  ?    Or  haven't  you  spoken  to  him  ?" 

"I  have  spoken  to  him,  but  he  didn't  tell  me,"  said 
Mary  Sorel.  "I  came  into  the  salon,  and  there  he  was 
with  Miss  Marks.  I  was  never  so  surprised  in  my 
life!" 

"I  don't  see  why,  as  you  know  perfectly  well  I'm 
going  to  marry  him,"  returned  Marise.  "Oh,  Celine! 
you've  dug  a  hairpin  about  an  inch  into  my  head! 
Now  mind,  whatever  you  hear  us  say  must  go  no 
further." 

"But  certainly  not,  Mademoiselle,"  vowed  Celine, 
who  spoke  excellent  English,  though  the  two  ladies 
loved  proudly  to  air  their  French  for  her  benefit.    "It  is 


"CAN  YOU  KEEP  A  SECRET  ?"  127 

indeed  true  that  Mademoiselle  will  marry  this  Monsieur 
American?" 

"It  is  indeed  true/'  Marise  repeated  drily. 

"It  won't  take  place — I  mean  the  wedding — for  some 
time,  however/'  Mrs.  Sorel  hurried  to  add. 

Marise  said  nothing,  but  looked  suddenly  as  mulish 
as  a  beautiful  girl  can  look.  She  had  been  wondering 
whether  or  no  to  confide  in  Mums  what  was  in  her 
mind,  and  see  what  Mums  would  say  and  think  about  it. 
But  on  the  instant  she  decided  "No/'  She  knew 
beforehand  what  Mums  would  think  and  say.  Every- 
thing would  be  from  Tony's  point  of  view.  Mums  was 
obsessed  with  the  wonder  and  majesty  and  glory  of  the 
great — soon  to  be  the  rich — Lord  Severance !  The  news 
should  be  sprung  on  Mums  at  the  last  moment,  when 
everything  was  "fixed  up." 

Meanwhile,  Zelie  was  snatching  a  few  words  with 
Garth — not  the  words  she  wanted  personally  to  speak, 
but  as  nearly  those  as  she  dared. 

"Jack  Garth!"  she  whispered,  "'Miss  Sorel  told  me 
just  now  you  and  she  are  going  to  be  married.  She 
wasn't  joking?" 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Garth  steadily,  "because  I'd  be — 
rather  cut  up  if  I  thought  it  was  a  joke." 

"Listen,  Jack,"  Zelie  hurried  on.  "We're  pals — 
we've  been  pals  for  a  long  time.  I  want  you  to  be 
happy.  I'd  do  a  whole  lot  to  make  you  happy.  So 
you've  just  got  to  forgive  me  if  I  say  .  .  .  Do  you 
know  what  you're  doing  ?  Can  you  be  happy  ?  That 
girl — I  mean,  Miss  Sorel — doesn't  love  you  any  more 
than  she  does  me.    And  that  isn't  a  little  bit!" 

"I  love  her,"  said  Garth.  "I  don't  care  a  damn 
whether  I'm  happy  or  not." 

"Oh !    Then  it's  all  right.    Of  course,  I  suppose  you 


128  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

know  your  own  business.  Still — Jack — I  can't  help 
feeling  there's  something  queer — some  sort  of  mystery. 
Don't  let  yourself  be  deceived." 

"I'm  not  being  deceived." 

"I  hope  not,  I'm  sure.  But — oh,  do  forgive  me! — 
it's  Lord  Severance  she  loves," 

"Then  the  sooner  she  unloves  him  the  better  it  will 
be  all  around." 

"I  know  you  think  I'm  a  meddler.  But  remember 
we're  friends.  Kemember  Mothereen  told  me  to  be  your 
friend,  Jack.  Those  two  Sorel  women  think  Severance 
the  perfect  beau  ideal  of  a  man.  They  look  upon  you — 
oh,  I  can't  say  it !" 

"You  needn't,"  Garth  drily  assured  her ;  "I'm  a  cad ; 
a  bounder ;  a  lout." 

"The  beasts!  I  hate  them  both!"  Zelie  gasped. 
"They're  not  worthy  to  black  your  boots." 

"I  mostly  wear  brown  ones,"  said  Garth. 

"You're  right  to  snub  me.  I  won't  say  any  more. 
You  must  go  your  own  way,  and  I  hope — I  hope  with 
all  my  heart"  (Zelie  choked  a  little)  "you'll  never 
regret  it.  But  just  this  one  thing  let  me  beg  you  to  do. 
Whatever  they're  up  to,  don't  give  them  the  chance  to 
despise  you.  I  mean,  in  little  things.  They  can't  in 
big!  I  saw  the  way  they  looked  at — at  your  clothes 
Sunday  afternoon,  Jack.  I  could  have  thrown  some- 
thing at  them! — not  the  clothes,  but  the  Sorels — and 
Severance,  the  conceited  Greek  snob!  But  the  clothes 
weren't  right,  boy.  They  didn't  do  you  justice.  They 
had  a  sort  of  ' Sunday-go-to-meeting'  look:  kind  of 
smug!  And  your  gloves  and  shoes  just  the  wrong  yel- 
low !  For  heaven's  sake  don't  lose  a  minute  in  going  to 
a  good  tailor  if  you  don't  want  your  life  to  be  a  hell !" 

Garth  laughed  out,  a  hard,  spasmodic  laugh ;  and  at 
that  instant  Marise  came  in. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

MARISE  PUTS   ON  BLACK 

A  GIRL  in  love  with  one  man,  flinging  herself  at 
the  head  of  another  out  of  pique  or  something 
worse,  should  have  been  utterly  careless  how  she  ap- 
peared to  the  eyes  of  the  latter.  But  for  some  reason 
— she  hardly  knew  what — Marise  had  been  anxious  to 
look  her  most  desirable.  She  was  dressed  in  black  velvet 
with  shimmering  fringes,  and  a  drooping  black  velvet 
hat  which  made  her  fairness  dazzling,  her  yellowish- 
brown  hair  bright  gold. 

With  a  faint  smile,  and  in  silence,  she  held  out  her 
hand.  Garth  took  it,  and  this  time  didn't  crush  it 
unduly. 

Zelie,  who  had  risen  as  Garth  rose,  began  pinning  on 
her  toque,  but  Marise  turned  to  her.  "Don't  go,  Miss 
Marks,"  she  said.  "I've  told  you  the  secret,  and  maybe 
we  shall  need  your  help  about  something.  I  don't  want 
my  mother  here  till  everything's  arranged.  It  doesn't 
matter  about  you." 

Zelie  slowly  took  out  a  hatpin.  Oh  no,  it  didn't 
matter  about  her!  She  laid  the  toque  down  again,  but 
drew  a  chair  to  the  typewriter  table,  her  back  turned 
to  the  man  and  the  girl.  She  could,  if  she  glanced  up 
from  her  papers,  however,  see  them  both  in  a  mirror. 
She  tried  not  to  glance  up,  but  she  succeeded  about  half 
as  often  as  she  failed.  The  look  on  Garth's  face  hurt  a 
great  deal  worse  than  the  hatpin  had  done  when  just 
now  she  had  jammed  the  point  of  it  into  her  head.    Oh, 

129 


130  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

it  was  ridiculous — or  heartbreaking — the  way  some  men 
loved  the  wrong  girls ! 

"I've  been  thinking  in  the  night,"  said  Marise  in  a 
brisk,  cheerful  tone,  "what  fun  for  us — since  we  are  to 
be  married — to  get  married  at  once  and  give  everyone 
we  know  the  surprise  of  their  young  lives !  .  .  .  What 
do  you  say?" 

Garth  had  not  expected  this  at  all.  In  fact,  when 
he'd  been  sent  for  at  a  very  early  hour,  he  expected  to 
hear  that  Marise  had  "changed  her  mind."  It  was  easy 
for  her  to  ask  "what  he  said,"  knowing  that  he  could 
say  only  commonplaces  before  Zelie  Marks;  and  he 
believed  that  Zelie  had  been  invited  to  remain  in  the 
room  for  precisely  this  reason. 

"I  say,  'Great  !'  "  He  rose  to  the  occasion,  with  the 
memory  of  Zelie's  words  and  his  own  drumming  through 
his  head.  "They  despise  you.  Cad:  bounder:  lout!" 
"That's  nice  of  you! — very!"  cooed  Marise,  noticing 
how  his  jaw  squared,  and  feeling  the  tide  of  her 
curiosity  rise.  (Was  it  love?  Or  was  it  the  million?) 
"Well  then,  we'll  just  do  the  deed !  How  long  does  it 
take  to  get  licenses  and  things  ?" 

Garth  kept  himself  firmly  in  hand.  "Only  as  long 
as  it  takes  to  buy  the  license  and  notify  a  parson." 

"That's  what  I  hoped,"  said  Marise.  "I  felt  sure  it 
was  different  here  from  England." 

"Shall  we — that  is,  would  you  care" — (Garth's 
mouth  was  dry) — "would  you  care  to  be  married  to- 
day?" 

"Yes,"  the  girl  flashed  back,  "I  would  care  to,  if 
that  suits  you.  Because,  you  see,  I  want  it  to  be  done 
and  over  before — anybody  knows.  Except  my  mother, 
of  course.  She  won't  like  the  idea  one  bit.  But  I'll 
make  her  come  round." 


MARISE  PUTS  ON  BLACK  131 

"I  see/'  said  Garth.  And  he  did  see.  He  saw  very 
clearly.  But  he  could  not  understand,  all  in  a  moment 
like  this,  why  she  wanted  to  marry  him  without  letting 
Severance  know  beforehand.  It  didn't  seem,  just  on 
the  face  of  it,  a  good  sign  for  Severance.  Still,  he 
couldn't  be  sure.  Women  were  supposed  to  be  very 
subtle,  and  he'd  never  had  much  time  even  to  try  and 
analyse  the  strange  creatures.  Except  Mothereen  (he'd 
named  her  that  because  she  was  Irish),  the  little  old 
woman  who'd  given  him  the  only  mothering  he  remem- 
bered, Garth  had  never  got  very  near  any  woman's 
mentality.  He  braced  himself,  and  asked,  "How  soon 
can  you  be  ready  ?" 

"In  an  hour — in  less  than  an  hour.  As  soon  as  I've 
told  Mums,"  Marise  spoke  quickly  and  thickly,  over  a 
beating  heart.  Each  moment  excited  her  more  and 
more.  She  felt  herself  the  heroine  of  a  thrilling  drama 
— a  drama  where  she  had  to  play  the  star  part  without 
any  rehearsals,  and  without  ever  having  read  further 
than  the  first  scene  of  the  first  act.  It  might  be  a 
drama  of  "stunts,"  too — as  the  movie  people  said: 
dangerous  stunts,  where  she  might  have  to  walk  a 
tightrope  with  a  deep  drop  underneath.  But  she  wasn't 
afraid.  She  would  not  have  thrown  over  the  part  now 
if  some  other  easier  one  with  the  same  ending  had 
offered.  She  didn't  recognise  herself  as  she  was  to- 
day. But  she  did  not  care.  It  was  all  Tony's  fault. 
Or  perhaps  a  little  Mums'  fault  too. 

"And  afterwards?"  she  heard  Garth  quietly  asking. 

"Oh !  .  •  .  Well,  the  first  thing  is  the  fun  of  surpris- 
ing everyone.  After  that — well,  I  haven't  exactly 
thought  yet." 

"You  had  better  think,"  he  said.    "Much  better." 


132  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Marise  glanced  at  the  back  of  Zelie's  head,  then  met 
Miss  Marks' s  eyes  in  the  mirror. 

"We'll  talk  it  over  presently  with  Mums.  She's  so 
wise — and  always  knows  how  to  do  the  right  thing." 
The  "correct  thing"  would  have  been  more  apt  an  ex- 
pression, but  Marise  wasn't  thinking  of  the  fine  shades. 
She  was  thinking  just  then  more  of  Zelie;  and  the 
thought  of  Zelie  made  her  blush,  she  didn't  quite  see 
why! 

"Miss  Marks,"  she  said,  "I  may  want  you  by  and  by 
to  take  down  several  notes  for  me,  letters  to  some  of 
my  most  intimate  friends,  to  be  sent  after — after  the 
wedding.  But  at  this  particular  instant  I  fancy  there's 
nothing  more  for  you  to  do,  except — oh  yes,  do  be  very 
nice,  and  run  down  to  the  mail  counter,  or  wherever  in 
the  hotel  you  can  buy  stamps." 

As  these  instructions  were  being  given,  Zelie  pencilled 
with  incredible  quickness  a  few  words  on  a  scrap  of 
paper.  This  scrap  she  tucked  up  her  sleeve,  and  a 
second  or  two  later,  as  Garth  opened  the  door  for  her  to 
go  out,  she  contrived  to  slip  the  paper  into  the  hand  on 
the  knob. 

"Now  I'll  call  Mums,"  cried  Marise,  fearing  to  risk 
such  a  moment  alone  with  this  unclassified  wild  animal, 
soon  to  become  her  dummy  husband.  "Mums  is  not 
pleased,  because  I  said  I  wanted  a  few  words  with  you 
before  she  came  in — though  she'd  be  much  crosser  if  she 
knew  I'd  let  Miss  Marks  stay.  You'll  back  me  up  with 
her,  won't  you,  that  my  plan — ours,  I  mean — is  the 
best?" 

"I  think,"  said  Garth,  "you  don't  need  much  back- 
ing from  me  with  your  mother,  though  if  you  do,  I'll 
give  it  as  well  as  I  know  how.    But  wait  a  second  before 


MARISE  PUTS  ON  BLACK  133 

she  comes.  I  have  a  superstition.  I  ask  that  you  won't 
be  married  in  black." 

"Oh!  But  I  chose  this  dress  on  purpose!"  The 
words  escaped  before  she'd  stopped  to  think. 

Garth  didn't  flush.  He  was  past  that.  He  needed 
all  his  blood  at  his  heart.  "I  supposed  you  did,"  he 
said.    "All  the  same,  don't  wear  it." 

"But  it's  such  a  pretty  dress — and  hat.  They're  new. 
I  like  them — better  than  anything  I've  got." 

"For  this  occasion!    I  understand." 

"Are  you — being  sarcastic  ?"  Marise  hesitated. 

"No-o.  Only  sincere.  Why  did  you  want  to  wear 
black  to  be  married — to  me  ?" 

"I — don't  know."    She  stammered  a  little. 

"Well  then,  if  you  don't  know,  change  to  another 
colour." 

"Oh,  I'm  quite  willing  to  do  that  if  you  make  a  point 
of  it!" 

The  man's  manner  was  so  different  from  the  other 
day,  that  Marise  was  less  sure  of  his  motives  in  taking 
her  at  the  price.  He  spoke  shortly  and  sharply  now, 
like  a  military  martinet,  she  decided.  But  he  wasnt 
exactly  "common."    He  wasn't  even  ordinary. 

Her  last  words  were  at  the  door  of  her  own  room,  and 
she  whisked  through,  to  find  her  mother.  She  thought 
how  she  should  break  the  news.  And  she  thought, 
also,  what  she  should  wear  in  place  of  the  black  dress. 
Should  she  put  on  grey — or  heliotrope — "second 
mourning"?  She  would  have  liked  to  try  this  trick 
upon  Garth.  But  the  man  was  capable  of  making  her 
take  off  one  thing  after  the  other,  on  pain  of  not  being 
married  to-day — which  meant,  not  spiting  Severance. 

•  .  .  a  •  •  • 

Mrs.  Sorel  was  flabbergasted. 


13*  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

She  would  not  have  used  such  a  vulgar  expression 
herself ;  but  that  is  what  she  was. 

She  argued,  she  warned,  she  scolded,  she  besought. 
Severance  would  be  furious.  It  would  be  a  blow  which 
his  love  might  not  survive.  Tony  had  not  dreamed  of 
this  marriage  taking  place  with  such — indecent  haste! 

"If  you  say  much  more  it  won't  take  place  at  all!" 
shrilled  Marise,  on  the  verge  of  hysterics,  which  (Mums 
knew  from  bitter  experience)  her  twentieth-century 
child  was  not  at  all  above  having  when  thwarted,  just 
like  an  early  Edwardian. 

While  Marise  was  away,  Garth  opened  the  folded 
scrap  of  paper  that  Zelie  Marks  had  slipped  into  his 
hand,  and  read  the  line  she  had  pencilled. 

"For  goodness  sake  don't  be  married  in  those  awful 
best  clothes  of  yours  that  you  wore  Sunday.  Put  on 
the  uniform  of  the  Guards,  and  look  a  regular  man." 

He  was  in  no  mood  for  laughing,  yet  he  grinned. 
"And  look  a  regular  man !"  .  .  .  Girls  were  queer.  As 
if  it  would  matter  to  Marise  what  he  wore !  But — well, 
hang  it,  why  shouldn't  he  make  her  notice  him  ?  She 
would  do  that  if  he  turned  up  in  uniform.  And  wasn't 
that  what  he  wished  to  look  in  her  eyes,  "A  regular 
man"  ? 

He'd  made  up  his  mind  to  take  Zelie's  tip,  when 
suddenly  he  remembered  that  Marise  and  he  would  not 
be  married  in  church.  They'd  walk  into  some  parson's 
parlour,  and  the  knot  would  be  tied  there.  He  couldn't 
get  into  his  uniform  for  a  home-made  affair  like  that. 

Garth  had  gone  no  further  than  this  when  Marise 
came  back,  chaperoned  by  Mums. 

"My  mother   makes  one  stipulation,"  he  girl  an- 


MARISE  PUTS  ON  BLACK  135 

nounced.  "That  the  wedding  shall  be  in  a  church. 
She's  picked  up  English  ideas,  and  thinks  anything  else 
'hardly  respectable/  Though  I  should  have  thought 
for  that  reason  it  would  be  more  appropriate!  How- 
ever, I  don't  care.    Do  you  ?" 

"Not  a  da — not  a  red  cent,"  said  Garth. 

Two  minutes  later  he  had  gone  to  buy  a  marriage 
license,  engage  the  services  of  a  clergyman — and  a 
church. 

Marise  changed  her  dress.  She  would  not  wear 
white,  like  a  real  bride.  That  would  be  sacrilege,  she 
said;  and  compromised  by  putting  on  her  favourite 
blue.  But  it  was  the  oldest  dress  she  owned;  and  she 
had  intended  giving  it  to  Celine. 

The  girl  wished  she  were  pale.  But  that  could  be 
arranged.  And  she  was  arranging  it  with  powder 
when  the  bell  of  the  telephone  rang. 

Mums  flew  to  the  instrument,  tearfully  drawing  on 
her  gloves. 

Garth  had  called  up,  to  give  the  name  of  the  church 
and  the  hour  fixed  for  the  wedding.  They  must  start 
at  once. 


CHAPTER  XV 

THE  CHUEOH   DOOE 

CELINE  was  a  fervent  admirer  of  Lord  Severance. 
Half  Greek,  she  had  heard  him  called.  To  her  he 
was  wholly  Greek :  a  Greek  god.  Indeed,  he  was  miles 
handsomer  than  "cet  Apollon  en  marbre"  adorning  a 
pedestal  in  the  salon,  which  statue  she  tried  to  drape 
tastefully  with  climbing  flowers  each  morning.  His 
lordship's  nose  was  much  the  same  as  Apollo's ;  so  was 
his  proud  air  of  owning  the  world  and  not  caring  par- 
ticularly about  it:  and  to  Celine's  idea  he  had  more  to 
be  proud  of  than  a  mere  god  who  went  naked. 

Gods  had  no  pockets,  and  Lord  Severance  had  many, 
beautifully  flat  yet  containing  banknotes  with  which 
he  was  generous  when  nobody  looked.  Since  she  could 
not  marry  him,  Celine  wanted  Mademoiselle  to  do  so, 
for  Mademoiselle  was  her  alter  ego.  She  shared 
Mademoiselle's  glory  and  her  dresses.  She  wished  to 
be  maid  to  a  countess — a  chic  countess,  as  the  wife  of 
Milord  Severance  would  be.  It  was  desolating  that 
Mademoiselle  should  throw  everything  over  because  of 
a  silly  quarrel  (it  must  be  a  quarrel!)  and  fling  herself 
away  on  a  gawky  giant  whose  clothes  might  have  been 
made  by  a  butcher ! 

Yes,  it  was  easy  to  see  that  there  had  been  an  up- 
heaval of  some  sort.  Mademoiselle  was  not  the  same 
since  Sunday  afternoon,  when  this  huge,  personage  had 
iarrived  by  appointment,  and  Celine  had  recalled  seeing 

136 


THE  CHURCH  DOOR  137 

him  on  shipboard.  To  be  sure,  Milord  had  come  in 
later,  and  outstayed  the  Monsieur.  But  it  was  then  the 
quarrel  must  have  occurred,  for  Mademoiselle  had  been 
in  a  state  unequalled  even  after  the  most  trying  dress 
rehearsals.  Oh,  it  was  a  mystery — a  mystery  of  the 
deepest  blackness! 

Celine  moaned  aloud,  with  a  bleating  noise,  and 
gabbled  argot  as  she  tidied  the  belongings  which  Made- 
moiselle had  flung  everywhere. 

"If  I  should  call  up  Milord,  how  would  that  be?" 
she  asked  herself,  and  rushed  to  the  'phone. 

Severance,  as  it  happened,  had  been  on  the  point  of 
telephoning  Mrs.  Sorel,  not  daring  to  attempt  direct 
communication  with  Marise.  He  had  bad  news  and 
good  news  to  give.  The  bad  was  that  he  must  sail  for 
England  sooner  than  expected,  in  fact,  on  the  follow- 
ing day,  or  perhaps  not  get  a  cabin  for  weeks. 

The  good  news  was  that  a  friend  had  offered  to  lend 
him  a  wonderful  house  near  Los  Angeles  for  the  next 
few  months.  He  had  spoken  to  a  certain  Lady  Fytche 
(nee  Adela  Moyle,  of  California)  about  his  marriage, 
and  bringing  (Enone  across  for  her  health.  Where- 
upon Adela  (who  was  at  his  hotel,  and  sailing  on  his 
ship)  said,  "I'd  love  to  lend  you  Bell  Towers.  The 
house  is  standing  empty,  and  you  know  it's  rather  nice." 

Severance  did  know,  for  Bell  Towers  was  a  famous 
place,  illustrated  in  magazines ;  and  if  Adela  Moyle  had 
been  prettier,  it  might  have  become  his  own  before  she 
fell  back — figuratively  speaking — upon  a  baronet. 

If  Marise  would  give  up  the  stage  (he  couldn't  bear 
to  leave  her  behind  the  footlights  in  New  York,  ad- 
mired, interviewed,  gossipped  about  by  Tom,  Dick  and 
Harry!),  he'd  lend  Bell  Towers  to  Mrs.  Sorel,  and  the 
girl  could  vanish  from  public  view  till  time  for  her 


138  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

farcical  marriage  and  his  own  return.  If  his  uncle 
could  be  told  by  himself  and  the  newspapers  that  Miss 
Sorel  was  engaged  to  Major  Garth,  it  would  be  enough 
to  cool  the  old  boy's  suspicions. 

Then,  as  Tony's  hand  was  stretched  out  for  the  re- 
ceiver, came  a  ring  at  the  telephone. 

"The  dentist!"  he  thought,  For  he  had  had  to  ask 
for  a  second  appointment  because  of  that  loosened  tooth, 
and  was  to  be  called  up.  It  came  as  a  surprise,  there- 
fore, to  hear  Celine's  voice. 

He  could  hardly  believe  the  news  which  the  French 
maid  gave  him.  Marise  wouldn't  do  such  a  thing! 
There  must  be  a  mistake,  he  told  Celine.  Or  it  was  a 
clumsy  joke. 

"Milord,  c'est  la  verite/'  came  the  answer.  "Milord 
need  not  take  my  word.  Let  him  go  to  the  church. 
Milord  may  yet  be  in  time.  But  he  must  make  haste. 
It  is  a  long  way.  I  heard  Madame  telephone  and 
talk." 

"I  will  go — I'll  do  my  best,"  Severance  answered,  to 
put  the  woman  off.  But — what  could  he  do?  What 
was  his  "best"  ? 

Celine  knew  nothing  of  the  secret  pact.  She  judged 
from  what  she  had  overheard,  and  he  could  not  explain 
that  he  didn't  see  his  way  to  stop  the  marriage. 

The  more  he  thought,  the  more  clear  it  became  that 
this  sudden  move  by  Marise  was  a  caprice  to  spite  him 
— to  "hoist  him  from  his  own  petard."  Severance  could 
almost  hear  the  gird  defend  herself.  "You  ought  to  be 
pleased  that  I  took  you  at  your  word,  before  you  went 
away.  Otherwise  I  might  have  changed  my  mind 
about  the  whole  thing!" 

She  was  sure  to  say  this,  and  even  if  he  reached  the 
church  in  time  he  wouldn't  dare  stop  the  business  when 


THE  CHURCH  DOOR  139 

it  had  gone  so  far.  That  devil  Garth  had  a  beast  of  a 
temper ;  and  a  fellow  can't  at  the  same  moment  see  red, 
and  which  side  his  bread  is  buttered! 

Severance  hated  Garth  venomously  since  the  episode 
at  the  Belmore.  But  the  brute  was  a  hero  in  the  States, 
and  would  pass  in  the  public  eye  as  a  reasonable  hus- 
band for  Marise  Sorel. 

Nobody  who  didn't  know  the  ugly  truth  would  say, 
"How  could  that  beautiful  girl  throw  herself  away  on 
that  worm?" 

Whatever  Garth  was,  he  wasn't  a  worm.  Though  he 
had  apparently  made  no  bones  of  accepting  a  million- 
dollar  bribe,  deep  within  his  subconscious  self  Severance 
didn't  believe  that  the  million  was  the  lure.  Garth  was 
in  love  with  the  girl,  in  his  loutish  way.  Perhaps, 
even,  he  might  hope  to  win  some  affection  from  her  in 
return.  Tony  felt  that  he  need  wish  the  fool  no  worse 
than  an  attempt  to  "try  it  on" ! 

Force,  Severance  did  not  fear.  Marise  was  no  flap- 
per. She  had  her  eyes  open.  She'd  know  how  to  handle 
a  man  in  Garth's  position.  Besides,  Mums  would  be 
at  her  side,  a  pillar  of  strength.  Tony  even  felt  that 
in  some  ways  Garth  was  ideal  for  the  part  he  had  to 
play.  Marise  would  always  contrast  him  unfavour- 
ably with  the  man  she  loved.  And  hating  Garth,  he — 
Severance — could  enjoy  the  tortures  which  the  paid 
dummy  was  doomed  to  suffer. 

Severance  could  not  keep  away  from  the  church.  To 
go  was  undignified,  yet  he  knew  that  he  would  go.  .  .  . 
Five  minutes  after  his  talk  with  Celine,  Tony  was  in  the 
lift,  descending  ten  storeys  of  his  hotel  to  the  gilding 
and  marble  of  the  ground  floor.  As  in  a  dream,  he 
ordered  a  taxi.  It  came ;  and — self-conscious,  as  if  he 
were  being  married  himself — he  directed  the  chauffeur 


140  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

where  to  drive.  Then,  still  as  in  a  dream,  he  stared  at 
his  reflection  in  a  small  mirror,  which  bobbed  as  the 
taxi  bounced.  It  was  a  consolation  to  see  how  hand- 
some and  superlatively  smart  he  looked! 

He  had  abandoned  his  uniform  in  New  York  for 
everyday  life ;  but  he  was  sure  that  no  man  in  America 
had  clothes  to  compare  in  cut  with  his,  which  had  been 
built  at  just  the  right  place  in  Savile  Row.  His  silk 
hat  was  a  masterpiece.  His  tie,  his  socks,  and  the 
orchid  in  his  buttonhole  were  all  of  the  same  shade,  and 
his  opal  pin  repeated  the  lights  and  shades  of  colour. 

Well,  there  was  one  good  thing  he  could  accomplish 
by  turning  up  at  the  church.  Silently  he  would  show 
Marise  the  contrast  between  a  man  who  was  everything 
he  ought  to  be,  and  a  man  who  was  everything  no  man 
should  be  and  live ! 

The  chauffeur  slowed  at  last  before  a  church  which 
looked  more  English  than  American,  and  was  perhaps  a 
relic  of  colonial  days.  "You  can  wait,"  said  Severance, 
getting  out.  "I  may  .  .  ."  But  he  forgot  the  rest. 
In  the  porch  stood  two  men,  who  had  evidently  just 
arrived  and  were  talking.  It  was  more  like  a  dream 
than  ever  to  see  a  familiar  uniform  which  at  a  glance 
took  Severance  home.  Both  men  wore  it.  The 
fighting  khaki  of  his  own  regiment  of  the  Guards! 

The  shorter  of  the  two  tall  officers  turned  and  saw 
him.  It  was  his  own  Colonel ;  and  the  other  was  Garth. 
Then  a  second  taxi  drove  up,  containing  Marise  Sorel 
and  her  mother. 

Severance  would  have  stepped  to  the  door  of  their 
cab,  but  Garth  was  before  him. 

And  so  it  was,  with  sunshine  striking  a  line  of  decora- 
tions on  the  V.C.'s  breast,  that  Marise  got  the  contrast 


THE  CHURCH  DOOR  141 

between  the  men.  An  orchid  is  beautiful ;  but  the  Vic- 
toria Cross,  even  expressed  in  ribbon,  is  better. 

"Let  me  introduce  my  Colonel,  Lord  Pobblebrook," 
said  Garth.  "He  has  brought  his  wife,  who  is  American, 
home  to  this  country;  and  when  we  ran  across  each 
other  this  morning  he  offered  to — to  see  me  through 
here." 

"Pobbles" — of  whom  Marise  had  heard  from  Tony 
— took  her  hand.  "We're  proud  of  Garth  in  the  regi- 
ment," he  said,  and  found  time  to  nod  to  Severance. 
But  he  looked  puzzled.  Why  was  Severance  here  ?  To 
the  best  of  Pobbles' s  recollection,  Tony  had  been  the 
ringleader  in  a  set  who  wanted  to  snub  Garth  out  of 
the  Brigade.    The  Colonel's  curiosity  woke  up. 


CHAPTEK  XVI 

FOB  BETTER,   FOB  WORSE 

FOR  once,  Marise  was  all  girl,  not  actress.  She  lost 
her  savoir  faire  at  sight  of  Severance,  and  could 
not  speak. 

She  saw  him  before  she  saw  Garth  and  "Pobbles," 
and  her  eyes  took  in  his  perfection  of  tailorhood.  Then 
Garth  came  forward,  and  she  was  struck  with  surprise 
by  the  uniform  of  the  smartest  soldiers  in  the  world. 

"What  an  inspiration !"  she  thought,  never  guessing 
whence  that  inspiration  had  come. 

Mrs.  Sorel,  luckily,  could  always  speak,  even  chatter. 
She  chattered  now. 

"How  nice  of  you  to  come,  Lord  Severance,"  she 
chirped,  keeping  up  appearances  before  Lord  Pobble- 
brook.  "And  how  clever!"  she  added,  camouflaging 
for  "Pobbles's"  benefit  her  surprise  that  Tony  should 
have  learned  Marise's  secret.  How  he  had  done  that, 
she  would  wring  out  of  someone  by  and  by.  But  at 
present  duty  bade  her  be  pleasant  to  "Pobbles." 

Trying  to  recall  mutual  friends  (titled)  with  whose 
Christian  names  she  could  impress  the  noble  soldier, 
Mums  had  to  keep  a  watchful  eye  and  ear  for  her  girl 
and  the  two  young  men :  but  it  was  not  for  long.  The 
clergyman  was  waiting. 

"Strange,  how  many  things  you  can  think  of  at  one 
time — especially  the  wrong  time!"  Marise  reflected,  as 
she  stood  before  the  figure  in  a  surplice. 

She  had  often  dreamed  of  being  married,  and  what 

142 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE  US 

kind  of  a  wedding  she  would  have,  at  St.  George's, 
Hanover  Square,  or  the  Guards'  Chapel.  She  had 
chosen  her  music,  and  knew  what  sort  of  dress  and  veil 
she  wanted.  Orchids  were  Tony's  flowers.  There  was 
a  white  variety,  streaked  with  silver.  Her  train  should 
be  silver,  too.  She'd  be  leaving  the  stage;  and  as  the 
Countess  of  Severance,  she  could  be  presented.  The 
silver  train  would  do  for  Court. 

Now,  here  she  was,  thousands  of  miles  from  Hanover 
Square  and  the  Guards'  Chapel.  She  had  on  a  street 
dress.  There  was  no  music,  unless  you  could  count  the 
far-off  strains  of  a  hand-organ  playing  an  old  tune, 
"You  made  me  love  you,  I  didn't  want  to  do  it!"  The 
one  orchid  was  in  Tony's  buttonhole ;  and  he  was  in  a 
pew  looking  on  while  she  promised  to  love,  honour  and 
obey  another  man. 

Marise  saw  the  two  pictures — the  dream  and  the 
reality ;  and  the  difference  made  her  sick.  All  the  sense 
of  wild  adventure  was  gone.  There  was  no  adventure ! 
There  was  just  blank  ruin. 

What  a  fool  she  had  been!  Was  there  no  way  out, 
even  now  ?  Surely  there  was  one.  She  could  still  say 
"No,"  instead  of  "Yes,"  and  there'd  be  an  end,  where 
Garth  was  concerned. 

Perhaps  on  the  spur  of  the  moment  Marise  would 
have  followed  her  impulse,  if — Lord  Pobblebrook 
hadn't  been  present.  Somehow,  before  him  she  couldn't 
make  a  scene! 

The  girl  felt  as  if  two  unseen  influences  had  her  by 
the  arm,  one  on  the  right,  one  on  the  left,  like  the  white 
and  black  angels  of  the  Mohammedan.  They  pulled 
both  ways  at  once,  and  trembling  as  she  never  had 
trembled  on  a  first  night  at  the  theatre,  she  looked  up 
at  Garth. 


144  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

There  was  an  odd  expression  in  his  yellow-grey  eyes, 
which  she  had  likened  to  the  eyes  of  a  lion  in  a  Zoo  who 
sees  nothing  save  his  far-off  desert.  This  lion  was  not 
now  thinking  of  the  desert.  He  was  thinking  of  her. 
But  how  ?  As  a  piece  of  meat  which  he  would  soon  be 
free  to  devour?  Or — as  a  new  keeper  who,  though 
young  and  a  woman,  would  have  to  be  reckoned  with  ? 

As  this  question  flashed  through  her  mind,  Marise 
remembered  that  she  knew  nothing  of  Garth's  past,  nor 
of  his  character,  except  that  he  had  fought  and  won  the 
V.C.,  therefore  he  must  be  brave.  But  why  worry, 
since  in  a  few  months  they'd  part,  and  she  would  for- 
get him,  as  she'd  forgotten  several  leading  men  who 
played  "opposite"  her  when  she  first  went  on  the  stage  ? 

But  that  look  in  the  yellow-grey  eyes;  what  was  its 
language?  What  was  in  the  soul  or  brain  behind  the 
eyes  ?  Was  Garth  deciding  how  to  treat  her  during  the 
short  time  that  would  be  his  ? 

Marise  recalled  the  sound  of  his  voice  when  he  had 
asked  her  what  would  come  after  the  marriaga  She'd 
answered  that  she  "hadn't  thought  yet"  And  he  had 
said,  "You  had  tetter  think.    Think  now/9 

"Well,  I'm  not  alone  in  the  world,  and  I'm  not  afraid 
of  him,"  she  encouraged  herself.  "Cave  Man  business 
is  old  stuff.    And  anyhow — what  price  a  Cave  Qirlf 

The  vision  of  a  Cave  Girl  downing  a  surprised  Cave 
Man  almost  made  Marise  laugh ;  and  then  it  was  time 
for  the  ring.  Good  gracious,  the  ring  I  Of  course,  no 
one  had  thought  of  it ! 

There  was  an  instant's  stage-wait.  Marise's  eyes 
turned  to  her  mother  and  saw  Mums  tearing  off  a  glove 
to  supply  the  necessary  object.  Far  more  dramatic, 
Severance  had  jumped  up  and  was  pulling  from  the 
least  finger  of  his  left  hand  a  gold  snake-ring  which 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE  145 

had  been  made  for  his  mother  in  Athens.  Yes,  he 
would  love  to  have  Marise  married  to  Garth  with  that ! 
But,  ufter  all,  the  bridegroom  had  brought  the  ring.  It 
was  only  that  for  a  few  seconds  he  had  forgotten.  Per- 
haps the  look  he  had  exchanged  with  his  bride  had  made 
him  forget ! 

He  remembered,  however,  before  Mums  or  Severance 
could  step  into  the  breach.  In  fact,  he  gave  them  no 
breach  to  step  into. 

"With  this  ring  I  thee  wed,  and  with  all  my  worldly 
goods  I  thee  endow,"  Marise  heard  him  repeat,  as  he 
slipped  over  the  third  finger  of  her  left  hand  the  circlet 
retrieved  in  haste  from  his  khaki  tunic.  She  glanced  at 
the  ring  as  it  slid  loosely  on,  and  was  amazed  to  see 
what  such  an  outsider  had  chosen. 

The  "smart  thing"  in  London  and  New  York  was, 
not  to  have  the  "stodgy  old  curtain-ring"  which  had 
been  woman's  badge  of  subjection  for  centuries.  In- 
stead, the  idea  was  a  band  of  platinum  set  round  with 
diamonds ;  and  this  was  what  Garth  had  hit  upon ! 

While  Marise  was  on  her  knees — shamefaced  because 
there  was  nothing  she  dared  pray  about — she  thought  of 
the  ring,  and  wondered  who  on  earth  had  put  Garth  up 
to  getting  it  ? 

•  •••••• 

When  all  was  over,  and  the  words  which  should  be 
momentous  were  spoken,  "I  pronounce  you  man  and 
wife,"  the  girl  lifted  her  face  with  the  hardest  expres- 
sion it  had  ever  worn.  Eyes  and  lips  said,  "This  is 
where  the  bridegroom  kisses  the  bride.  But  that's  not 
in  our  programme.  Don't  dare  to  take  advantage  of 
your  Colonel  being  here." 

Whether  Garth  read  the  signal,  or  whether  he'd  no 
intention   of  keeping  the  time-honoured   custom,    he 


146  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

refrained.  Instead  of  a  kiss,  he  gave  the  bride  a  slight 
smile,  gone  so  quickly  she  wondered  if  she'd  imagined  it. 

In  another  moment,  after  she'd  been  pressed  in  her 
mother's  arms,  Lord  Pobblebrook  was  shaking  hands ; 
and  then  came  Severance. 

It  was  a  good  minute  for  him,  because  Garth  was  kept 
busy  by  a  kind  Colonel  and  a  not  very  kind  mother-in- 
law. 

"Let  no  man  put  them  asunder !"  the  Reverend  David 
Jones  had  just  said,  but  there  already  was  the  man 
who  intended,  in  the  devil's  good  time,  to  disobey  that 
command. 

"This  has  been  the  worst  half-hour  of  my  life,"  Tony 
groaned.  "My  God,  how  I've  suffered!  I  all  but 
sprang  up  and  yelled  'Stop!'  when  the  fool  looked 
round  for  someone  to  say  why  the  marriage  shouldn't 
take  place " 

"  'Or  else  for  ever  after  hold  his  peace,' "  quoted 
Marise. 

"Dash  it  all,  don't  rub  things  in,"  Severance  begged. 
"I  didn't  know  how  bad  it  would  be " 

"I  half  thought  you  might  spring  up !"  the  girl  con- 
fessed. 

"If  I  had,  what  would  you  have  done  ?" 

"I— don't  know." 

"It  would  have  made  matters  worse  for  the  future — 
more  difficult  all  round,"  Tony  said.  "That  thought 
held  me  back.  But,  Marise,  it  was  cruel  to  spring  this 
surprise  on  me." 

"It  doesn't  seem  to  have  been  a  surprise,"  she  re- 
minded him.  "How  did  you  know  about  it — the  church, 
and  everything?" 

"A  little  bird  told  me.  Why  did  you  want  to  hurt 
me  so  ?" 


FOR  BETTER,  FOR  WORSE  147 

Marise  shrugged  her  shoulders.  "You  had  hurt  me 
— almost  to  death.  I  had  to  strike  back!  But  let's- 
not  talk  of  it  any  more.  The  thing's  done — and  can't 
be  undone." 

"It  can,  and  will  be,  before  long,  please  Heaven !" 

The  girl  laughed.  "Please  Heaven?"  And  she  was 
glad  when  Pobbles  broke  in,  Mums  at  his  side. 

"My  dear  young  lady,  Garth  confided  in  me  (am  I 
not  his  Colonel,  which  is  much  the  same  as  a  father 
confessor  ?)  that  this — er — this  little  show  had  been  got 
up  in  a  hurry  for  one  reason  or  other.  I'm  pleased  and 
honoured  to  be  in  at  the  dea — I  mean  the  birth — er — 
you  know  what  I  mean !  And  I'd  be  still  more  pleased 
if — er — couldn't  we — I — invite  you  all  to  some  sort  of 
blow-out?    My  wife " 

"Sweet  of  you,  Lord  Pobblebrook !"  cut  in  Mrs.  Sorel. 
"But  if  there' d  been  time  for  any  sort  of  rejoicing, 
any  little  feast,  I  should  be  giving  it  and  asking  Lady 
Pobblebrook  and  yourself  to  join  us.  But  I  suppose 
Major  Garth  can't  quite  have  made  it  clear  to  you  that 
he  is  called  away  suddenly — on  a  sort  of  mission.  That's 
why  the  marriage  was  so  rushed.  He  has  to  go  at  once, 
so  he  wanted  to  be  married  first,  and " 

"Take  my  wife  with  me,"  explained  Garth. 

His  mother-in-law  of  ten  minutes  stared  at  him  with 
the  eyes  of  a  cold,  boiled  fish. 

"Of  course — yes — that's  what  he  wanted/'  she  smiled 
to  Pobbles.  "What  a  pity  it  can't  be!  My  daughter, 
Lord  Pobblebrook,  is  a  servant  of  the  public,  you  know. 
She  has  to  obey  them,  marriage  or  no  marriage.  And 
they  want  her  in  New  York." 

"Not  as  much  as  I  want  her  out  West,"  said  Garth. 
He  smiled  again — that  same  queer  smile  with  the  same 


148  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

unreadable  look  in  his  eyes,  though  this  time  both  were 
for  Mums. 

The  indignant  lady  turned  to  Marise,  in  case  there 
were  some  plot  against  her;  but  the  girl  gave  a  very 
slight  shake  of  her  head.  Light  came  back  to  Mrs. 
SorePs  eyes.  She  ought  to  be  able  to  trust  her  own 
daughter ! 

"I  took  the  liberty  of  ordering  lunch  for  four  at  the 
Eitz  after  I  met  my  Colonel  in  the  hall  of  the  Bel- 
more/'  said  Garth.  "I  stopped  on  the  way  there,  to  buy 
the  ring.  But" — and  he  eyed  Severance  coolly — "there 
will  be  room  to  have  a  fifth  plate  laid,  if — er " 

"Oh!"  thought  Marise.  "Not  so  much  Cave  Man, 
after  all,  as  the  Strong,  Silent  Man!  All  right!  I 
know  that  kind  from  A  to  Z.  And  I  dare  say  it's  just 
as  easy  to  be  a  Strong,  Silent  Girl  as  to  be  a  Cave  Girl, 
if  once  you  begin  properly." 

Her  sense  of  adventure  woke  again  as  she  waited  to 
hear  Tony's  answer. 


CHAPTEK  XVII 

THE  SPEAKING-TUBE 

SEVERANCE  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  Eitz. 
Bis  principal  reason  for  doing  so  was  because  he 
knew  it  would  enrage  Garth. 

It  was  a  strange  and  strained  luncheon,  for  those 
present  (with  the  exception  of  "Pobbles")  talked  very 
little  and  thought  so  much  that  it  seemed  to  each  one 
as  if  his  or  her  thoughts  shrieked  aloud  or  shot  from 
the  head  in  streaks  of  blue  lightning. 

Marise  thought,  "What  comes  next  ?  What  does  He 
mean  to  do  ?"  And  "He,"  with  a  capital  "H,"  was  no 
longer  Severance,  but  this  stranger,  Garth. 

Mrs.  Sorel  thought,  "How  are  we  going  to  get  rid  of 
the  man  ?  I'm  sure  he  means  mischief.  Shall  I  appeal 
to  Lord  Severance,  or  would  that  make  matters  worse  ?" 

Severance  thought,  "How  am  I  to  get  some  time 
alone  with  Marise,  and  come  to  an  understanding  be- 
fore I  sail  to-morrow  morning  ?  How  are  we  to  arrange 
about  our  letters  and  cables?" 

And  Garth  thought,  "What  will  She  say  when  she 
finds  out  what  I've  arranged  at  the  Plaza  I" 

As  for  Lord  Pobblebrook,  he  had  only  vague,  pleasant 
thoughts  such  as  men  of  his  type  do  have  at  a  wedding 
luncheon  with  plenty  of  champagne.  It  was  a  very 
good  luncheon,  for  they  do  things  well  at  the  Eitz,  and 
the  champagne  was  a  last  song  of  glory  before  America 
went  "dry." 

149 


150  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

At  last,  when  Severance  had  to  give  up  hope  of  a 
whispered  word  with  Marise,  he  was  obliged  to  declare 
his  hand.  "I'll  call  at  the  theatre  to-night  to  say 
good-bye  if  you  don't  mind,"  he  announced  aloud,  with 
a  casual  air.  "I  suppose  you  won't  hand  things  over 
to  your  understudy,  in  spite  of  what's  happened  to- 
day?" 

"I  shall  play  to-night,  of  course,"  said  Marise. 

"And  every  night,"  added  Mums. 

Silence  followed  her  words. 

"Won't  you  come  back  to  the  Plaza  with  us,  Lord 
Pobblebrook?"  asked  Mrs.  Sorel.  "If  you  have  never 
been  there,  I'd  like  you  to  see  what  a  charming  hotel  it 
is.  Next  time  you  run  over  from  dear  England,  you 
might  like  to  try  it  for  yourself.  Major  Garth,  I'm 
sorry  to  say,  is  obliged  to  attend  to  business  this  after- 
noon— business  concerned  with  his  mission,  so  unfor- 
tunately— unless  you'll  go  with  us — my  daughter  and  I 
will  be  obliged  to  taxi  back  alone." 

"Of  course  I'll  come,  with  pleasure!"  heartily  con- 
sented Pobbles. 

"My  business  doesn't  begin  quite  so  early,"  said 
Garth.  "If  you'll  drive  with  Mrs.  Sorel,  sir,  I'll  take 
my  wife  as  far  as  the  Plaza." 

If  Mums  could  have  stabbed  her  son-in-law,  not 
fatally  but  painfully,  with  a  stiletto-flash  from  her  eyes, 
it  would  have  given  her  infinite  satisfaction  to  do  so. 
As  she  eould  not,  she  had  to  confess  herself  worsted  for 
the  moment ;  for  Lord  Pobblebrook  was  the  Colonel  of 
Lord  Severance  as  well  as  of  Major  Garth ;  and  it  was 
for  such  as  he  that  the  conventional  farce  of  this  wed- 
ding had  taken  place.  He  must  not  be  allowed  to  sus- 
pect that  anything  was  wrong,  or  Tony's  whole  elabo- 
rate scheme  might  be  wrecked.     It  was  most  probable 


THE  SPEAKING-TUBE  151 

that  Lord  Pobblebrook  and  Mr.  Ionides  belonged  to 
some  of  the  same  London  clubs  and  met  now  and  then. 

Marise  was  oddly  dazed  at  finding  herself  alone  in  a 
taxi  with  Garth,  bound  for  the  Plaza  Hotel,  which  she 
thought  of  as  "home."  She  had  expected  that  Tony  or 
Mums  would  succeed  in  rescuing  her,  but  neither  had 
risen  to  the  occasion:  and  the  girl  realised  that  this 
lack  of  initiative  on  their  part  was  due  to  the  presence 
of  Pobbles.  She  hardly  knew  whether  to  be  more  vexed 
or  amused  at  Garth's  triumph  (she  supposed  that  he 
considered  it  such)  ;  but  her  lips  twitched  with  that 
fatal  sense  of  humour  which  Mums  so  disapproved. 

"It  is  rather  funny,  isn't  it?"  said  her  companion. 

Marise  stiffened.  This  was  a  critical  moment.  Much 
depended  upon  the  start  she  made  on  stepping  over  the 
threshold  of  this  strange  situation.  She  must  be  careful 
to  keep  the  whip  hand. 

"What  I  was  laughing  at  is  funny,  in  a  way,"  she 
grudged.  "It  occurred  to  me  that  it  was  smart  of  you 
to  bring  your  Colonel  to — to — the — er " 

"Show,"  suggested  Garth. 

"If  you  like  to  call  it  that." 

"I  thought  the  word  pretty  well  described  it  from 
your  point  of  view,"  explained  Garth. 

Marise  looked  straight  at  him. 

"What  was  it  from  yours  I    It  can't  have  been  much 


more." 


:I  don't  feel  bound  to  tell  you  what  it  was  from 


mine." 


"Oh,  well,  you  needn't!"    Her  chin  went  up.     "I'm 
not  really  curious." 

"Why  should  you  be  ?    You'll  find  out  in  time." 

A  spark  lit  the  blue  eyes  under  the  blue  hat. 

"I  do  hope  you're  not  planning  to  spring  any  sur- 


152  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

prises  on  me,  Major  Garth/'  she  said,  in  an  acid  tone 
that  was  a  youthful  copy  of  Mums,  "because,  if  you 
are,  it  will  only  lead  to  unpleasantness.  Whereas,  if 
you  keep  to  the  spirit  of  the  bargain,  we " 

"Allow  me  to  point  out,"  Garth  cut  in,  with  an  im- 
personal air  of  detachment  which  puzzled  her,  "that 
you  yourself  have  'queered'  the  'bargain.'  " 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  exclaimed  Marise. 

"That's  another  instance  of  your  not  thinking  things 
out  beforehand,"  he  said.  "If  you'd  stopped  to  reflect 
a  minute  before  you  proposed  to  marry  me  this  morn- 
ing, you'd  have  seen  what  you  were  up  against." 

Marise  felt  the  blood  rush  to  her  cheeks,  as  if  the  man 
had  slapped  them  with  the  flat  of  his  big  hand. 

"What  a  way  of  putting  it!"  she  flashed  at  him. 
"You  may  be  a  hero  and  all  that — no  doubt  you  are, 
as  you're  a  V.O.  But  as  a  man— a  gentleman — I'm 
afraid  you've  got  quite  a  lot  to  learn." 

"Of  course  I  have,"  said  Garth.  "You  knew  I  was 
only  a  temporary  gentleman.  I  heard  Severance  state 
the  fact  to  you  on  shipboard  when  he  was  telling  you 
some  of  my  other  disadvantages.  Scratch  a  temporary 
gentleman,  and  under  the  surface  you  find " 

"What  ?"  Marise  threw  into  a  pause. 

"The  things  you'll  find  in  me,  when  you  know  me 
better." 

"Oh !"  she  breathed.  And  on  second  thoughts  added, 
"I  don't  intend  to  'scratch'  you,  and  find  things  under 
the  surface.  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever  know  you 
much  better." 

"Call  it  worse,  then,"  he  suggested. 

"Neither  better,  nor  worse !" 

"Yet  you've  just  promised  to  take  me  for  both." 

"That  meant  nothing,  as  you  know  very  well." 


THE  SPEAKING-TUBE  153 

"I  do  not  know  anything  of  the  sort." 

"Then  you  are  a  'temporary  gentleman'  indeed !  We 
spoke  just  now  of  that  bargain " 

"Which,  through  your  own  actions,  doesn't  exist." 

"Of  course  it  exists.    You  talk  in  riddles !" 

"When  you  put  your  mind  to  this  one,  it  will  cease  to 
be  a  riddle.  You'll  guess  it  in  a  moment.  You'll  see 
what  you've  done.  Probably  Severance  would  have  told 
you  before  this  if  he'd  had  the  chance.  The  explana- 
tion, if  there  has  to  be  one,  will  come  better  from  him 
than  from  me.  But  I  may  as  well  break  one  small 
>detail  to  you  before  we  get  to  the  hotel ;  I've  no  inten- 
tion of  leaving  him  alone  with  you  for  a  minute,  or  any 
part  of  a  minute,  before  he  sails." 

"How  dare  you  hope  to  lay  down  the  law  for  me?" 
Marise  almost  gasped,  over  a  wildly-throbbing  heart. 
"I  shall  see  Lord  Severance  alone  as  much  as  I  choose 
— and  as  he  chooses." 

"You  can  try,"  said  Garth.    "So  can  he." 

"You  won't  have  any  chance  to  prevent  it!  You 
shan't  even  come  into  my  mother's  suite  at  the  Plaza 
Hotel  if  you  attempt  to  put  on  these  ridiculous  airs  of 
being  my  master.  I  wonder  who  you  think  you  are, 
Major  Garth?" 

"The  important  thing — to  you  and  your  mother  and 
to  Severance — is  not  so  much  what  I  think  I  am,  as 
what  other  people  will  think  I  am.  They  will  think  I'm 
your  husband.  I  understand  that  this  marriage  idea 
was  entirely  for  appearance'  sake?" 

"Exactly!"  cried  Marise. 

"Then  it's  up  to  you  and  me  to  look  after  the  ap- 
pearances. I  warned  you  this  morning  that  you  hadn't 
thought  the  thing  out  enough,  and  that  you'd  better 


154  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

think  hard,  then  and  there.     Perhaps  you  did.     If  so, 


you 

"I  didn't.    How  could  I  ?    There  was  no  time." 

"That's  what  you  said.  Consequently  I  had  to  do 
the  thinking  for  you.  And  the  arranging  of  your  fu- 
ture. I  never  was  a  slow  chap.  My  life  was  always 
more  or  less  of  a  hustle  since  I  was  a  very  small  kid, 
and  I  had  to  keep  my  thinking  machine  on  the  jump. 
The  war  has  speeded  it  up  a  bit.  This  morning,  when 
you  announced  that  you'd  be  ready  to  be  married  in  an 
hour  or  less,  I'll  tell  you  just  what  I  had  to  do.  I  had 
to  inform  the  manager  of  your  hotel  that  I  was  marry- 
ing Miss  Sorel,  and  that  we  couldn't  get  away  from 
New  York  for  a  few  days " 

"You— dared  to  do  that!" 

"I  got  my  V.C.  for  doing  something  almost  as  danger- 
ous.   I  told  him  he  must  give  us  a  suite " 

"You— you  devil !" 

"Thank  you.  I  guess  even  that  sounds  more  natural 
from  a  wife  to  a  husband  than  'Major  Garth.' " 

"You  don't  dream  I'm  going  to  occupy  a  suite  with 
you,  I  suppose?" 

"I  don't  dream.  I  know  you  are  going  to  occupy 
that  suite,  unless  you  want  me  openly  to  leave  you  on 
our  wedding  day.  This  comes  of  your  not  thinking 
what  would  happen  next.  You'd  better  choose  now, 
because  we'll  soon  be  at  the  Plaza.  Is  it  to  be  my 
hotel  or  not  ?" 

"You  said — when  my  mother  explained  to  Lord 
Pobblebrook  that  you  had  a  mission — you  said  you  were 
going  West." 

"And  that  I  intended  to  take  you  with  me.  But 
that  won't  be  for  a  few  days,  till  you've  had  time  to 
settle  your  affairs.    I  don't  want  to  rush  you.    What  I 


THE  SPEAKING-TUBE  155 

ask  you  to  decide  now  is  for  meanwhile,  before  we 
start." 

"I  shall  never  start  anywhere  with  you — or  live  any- 
where meanwhile  with  you." 

"Very  well  then,  that's  that.  Now  I  know  where  I 
am."  He  seized  the  speaking-tube,  but  Marise  caught 
his  hand. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  ?"  she  asked. 

"Stop  the  taxi  and  get  out.    The  snap's  off." 

The  girl  was  about  to  exclaim,  "But  you  can't  leave 
me  like  this !"  when  it  occurred  to  her  that,  desperado 
as  he  was  turning  out,  it  would  be  well  to  take  him  at 
his  word ;  at  all  events,  to  a  certain  extent. 

"Very  well,"  she  said.  "I  shall  tell  everyone  that 
you've  gone  West  on  an  important  mission.  V.O.'s  are 
always  expected  to  have  missions." 

"And  I  shall  tell  everyone  that  I've  done  nothing  of 
the  sort.  I'll  go  back  to  the  Belmore,  'phone  to  the 
Plaza  and  countermand  the  suite  I  took,  and  allow 
myself  to  be  interviewed  by  all  the  reporters,  who'll 
swarm  round  me  like  flies  round  a  honeypot.  There'll 
be  plenty  of  flies  left  for  you.  You  can  give  them  honey 
or  vinegar,  I  don't  care  which.  It's  your  concern,  not 
mine.  I  don't  even  care  what  they  make  of  the  com- 
bination: my  story  and  yours.  It'll  be  some  story, 
though.    That's  the  one  thing  sure." 

"You're  an  absolute  brute!"  cried  Marise. 

"What  did  you  expect?  You  heard  from  Severance 
that  I  was  a  bounder.  I'm  a  fighting  man.  That's 
about  all,  for  the  moment." 

"You  mean,  you're  fighting  me?" 

"Not  in  the  least.  I'm  fighting  the  battle  of  ap- 
pearances, which  means  I'm  fighting  for  you." 

"What  makes  you  think  there'll  be  reporters  wait- 


156  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

ing?"  Marise  changed  the  subject.    "Did  you  tell  any- 
one ?" 

"The  manager  of  your  hotel  and  mine.  I  didn't  tell 
him  in  confidence.  There  was  no  idea  of  keeping  the 
marriage  a  secret,  was  there?" 

"No-o." 

"Well,  then !  Am  I  or  am  I  not  to  stop  the  taxi  and 
get  out?" 

"Wait,"  Marise  temporised.  "You  must  please  un- 
derstand that  I'm  not  going  to  live  with  you  as  your 
wife." 

"I  haven't  asked  you  to  do  so,  although  you  did  ask 
me  to  become  your  husband.  After  last  Sunday,  I 
would  never  have  started  the  subject,  or  even  have  triad 
to  meet  you  again.  Please,  on  your  part,  understand 
that." 

The  girl's  breath  was  caught  away  for  the  dozenth 
time.  She  spoke  more  quietly.  "I  know  you  haven't 
asked  me,  in  so  many  words,"  she  admitted.  "But  you 
spoke  of  a  suite." 

"Certainly  I  spoke  of  a  suite.  I  thought  you  and 
your  mother  were  anxious  to  keep  up  conventions. 
Though  I'm  not  Severance's  sort  of  gentleman — per- 
haps because  I'm  not — you  can  trust  me  not  to  behave 
like  a  brute,  even  though  you're  thinking  that  I  speak 
like  one.  Or,  if  you  can't  trust  me  as  far  as  that,  you 
ought  never  to  have  run  the  risk  you  have  run." 

"But  can  I  trust  you — to  keep  to  the  bargain  ?" 

"I've  told  you  that  owing  to  your  own  act,  there  is 
no  bargain.     Haven't  you  solved  that  'puzzle'  yet?" 

"I  have  not." 

"You  will  soon.    Do  I  stop  here  ?" 

"Bargain  or  no  bargain  then,  can  I  trust  you  ?" 
'Look  me  in  the  face  and  judge." 


tc 


THE  SPEAKING-TUBE  157 

She  looked  him  in  the  face. 

In  spite  of  the  war  tan,  not  faded  yet,  he  was  pale; 
and  his  pupils  seemed  to  have  flowed  like  ink  over  the 
yellow-grey  iris.  His  eyes  were  black  as  they  blazed 
into  hers.  He  might,  she  thought,  commit  murder  in 
that  mood,  but — he  could  do  nothing  mean,  nothing 
sly,  nothing  vile. 

"I  must  trust  you,  and  I  do." 

Garth  let  the  speaking-tube  fall. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ATJ  EEVOIR TILL  SOMETIME ! 

WHEN  Marise  and  Garth  arrived  together  in  Mrs. 
Sorel's  salon,  it  was  to  find  a  "bunch."  of  report- 
ers interviewing  the  bride's  mother. 

Marise  guessed  that  Mums  had  had  the  young  men  up 
in  order  to  tell  them  what  she  chose  about  Major  Garth's 
future  movements  before  Garth  had  time  to  arrive  and 
speak  for  himself.  But  by  these  tactics  she  had  lost 
the  supporting  presence  of  Lord  Severance.  Fearing 
his  uncle,  and  perhaps  even  detectives  set  to  spy  upon 
him  by  Constantine  Ionides,  the  last  thing  he  could  af- 
ford was  to  have  his  name  appear  in  print  in  connection 
with  this  surprise  wedding.  Fearing  reporters,  he  had 
not  even  come  to  the  hotel  door  with  Mrs.  Sorel,  but 
had  gone  with  his  Colonel  to  pay  respects  due  to  Lady 
Pobblebrook ;  and  this  was  well,  for  some  sharp  eye  and 
stylo  would  have  spotted  him  even  in  the  background 
of  a  taxi. 

Mums  had  not  only  approved,  she  had  advised  this 
prudence.  Everything  depended  upon  it,  in  fact;  and 
she  had  soothed  Tony  by  assuring  him  that  she  and 
Marise — or  she  alone — could  deal  with  Garth  if  Garth 
were  uppish  and  needed  keeping  in  his  place.  It  was 
arranged  between  Mrs.  Sorel  and  Lord  Severance  that 
the  latter  should  come  to  "Dolores's"  dressing-room  at 
the  theatre  to  say  good-bye,  and  Mums  would  see  that 
he  got  a  few  minutes  at  least  alone  with  Marise.    Then, 

158 


AU  REVOIR— TILL  SOMETIME!         159 

in  a  few  weeks  he  would  be  back  and  they  would  meet 
again.  Mrs.  Sorel  had  provisionally  accepted  the  loan, 
of  Bell  Towers  until  he  and  (Enone  should  want  the 
house  for  themselves,  whereupon  the  Sorels  could  grace- 
fully retire  to  some  charming  place  they  would  hope 
to  find  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Of  course,  this  acceptance  of  Bell  Towers  must  de- 
pend upon  Marise  leaving  the  stage:  but  Mums  said 
that,  if  Tony  were  indeed  shortly  to  be  left  a  widower, 
the  sooner  Marise  could  be  disassociated  from  the 
theatre,  the  better  it  would  be  for  all  concerned. 

Thus  it  happened  that  when  "Major  and  Mrs. 
Garth"  walked  into  the  room  a  few  minutes  after 
Mums'  arrival,  they  found  her  as  busy  with  a  crowd  of 
reporters  as  a  conjurer  who  keeps  a  dozen  oranges  in  the 
air  at  once. 

Mary  Sorel  was  chagrined  at  sight  of  her  son-in-law. 

Not  that  she  thought  of  him  as  such,  or  as  the  hus- 
band of  her  daughter.  She  was  a  woman  whom  circum- 
stances had  forced  to  become  unscrupulous.  Ever  since 
Marise  had  begun,  as  a  flapper,  to  show  signs  of  un- 
usual beauty  and  talent,  Mums  had  buckled  on  a  steely 
armour  in  which  to  fight  the  world  for  her  girl.  Natur- 
ally conventional,  she  had  adjusted  a  nice  balance  be- 
tween ambition  and  conscience.  When  she  was  obliged 
to  do  a  thing  in  itself  objectionable,  she  hastily  gilded 
it  for  her  own  benefit  as  well  as  that  of  Marise,  seeing 
it  as  she  wished  it  to  be.  Garth  in  her  eyes,  therefore, 
was  no  more  important  than  one  of  the  leading  men 
with  whom  Marise  played  her  star  parts;  and  as — like 
a  leading  man — he  was  to  be  well  paid,  he  would  have 
no  right  to  obtrude  upon  the  star's  private  life. 

She  intended  that,  no  matter  how  he  protested,  he 
should  immediately  be  "called  away";   and  she  had 


160  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

hoped  to  get  just  what  she  wanted  scribbled  into  the 
note-books  of  these  reporters  before  Garth  could  inter' 
fere.  Without  feeling  in  the  least  guilty,  therefore,  she 
was  upset  when  he  had  the  bad  taste  to  stalk  in  with 
Marise. 

"Hello,  boys!"  he  breezily  greeted  the  newspaper 
men,  some  of  whom  he  had  met  before. 

They  were  delighted  to  see  him,  as  well  as  Marise, 
and  Mrs.  SorePs  painstaking  work  went  by  the  board  in 
a  minute.  With  rage  and  anguish  she  heard  Garth  say 
that  when  he  "went  West"  (no  longer  in  the  sad  ver- 
nacular of  soldiers)  his  wife  would  go  with  him. 

"She'll  be  leaving  the  stage,  you  know,  as  soon  as 
she  can  manage  to  get  free,"  he  explained.  "And 
then  I'm  going  to  take  her  out  to  my  adopted  state, 
Arizona." 

His  mother-in-law's  interpolations  that  "it  must  be  a 
long  time  first"  were  scarcely  heard;  and  all  her  "ex- 
clusive information"  was  hurriedly  blue-pencilled  by 
the  newspaper  men.  In  the  midst  of  this  (to  her) 
extremely  painful  scene,  Sheridan  and  Belloc,  author 
and  manager,  burst  in  like  a  couple  of  bombs.  They 
had  heard  the  news,  and  dashed  to  the  Plaza  in  search 
of  the  truth. 

"Well,  I  suppose  we  ought  to  congratulate  you  and 
all  that,"  grumbled  Belloc,  when  his  worst  fears  had 
been  confirmed  by  the  sight  of  Garth,  well  known  from 
journalistic  snapshots.  "We  might  have  suspected 
something  was  in  the  wind,  the  way  you've  been  an 
every-nighter  for  the  'Spring  Song,'  Major.  But  safety 
first ! — and  we  can't  be  polite  till  we're  out  of  the  woods. 
You're  not  going  to  tear  Miss  Sorel  away  from  us,  of 
course,  in  the  midst  of  the  run  ?" 


AU  REVOIR— TILL  SOMETIME!         161 

"Miss  Sorel  has  ceased  to  exist,  hasn't  she?"  asked 
Garth,  with  a  rather  glum  smile. 

"Not  ceased  to  exist  professionally."  Belloc  ex- 
plained his  meaning  to  the  lay  mind.  "And  I  hope  she 
won't  cease  for  many  years." 

"If  I  can  answer  for  her,  she'll  do  no  more  acting 
after  she's  handed  in  her  notice  to  you — two  weeks,  I 
suppose,  like  most  contracts,"  Garth  returned.  "It's 
hard  on  you,  in  the  middle  of  a  run.  But  didn't  I  see 
in  some  Sunday  supplement  a  photo  of  a  beautiful 
young  lady,  labelled  'Miss  Sorel's  Understudy'  ?  And 
as  you  say  'safety  first!' — naturally  I  put  my  own 
safety  before  yours." 

"As  if  anyone  would  go  to  the  'Spring  Song9  to  see 
Marise's  understudy!"  broke  out  Mrs.  Sorel. 

"Well,  in  my  'Spring  Song'  there's  no  understudy  to 
take  her  part.  She  has  to  play  it  herself,"  retorted 
Garth.    "But  I  leave  the  decision  to  her." 

As  he  spoke  he  looked  straight  at  Marise — a  warning 
look,  as  she  read  it.  The  thought  of  his  threat  was 
sharp  as  the  point  of  a  knife,  pricking  a  painful  re- 
minder into  her  breast. 

The  girl  could  hear  every  word  he  had  said  to  her  in 
the  taxi  between  church  and  hotel — hear  the  whole  con- 
versation as  though  it  were  being  repeated  by  a  gramo- 
phone. If  she  ventured  to  promise  Belloc  and  Sheridan 
now  that  she  would  stay  on  in  spite  of  her  marriage,  this 
big,  uncompromising  fellow  would  turn  his  back  on  her, 
giving  to  the  public  some  garbled  story  of  the  desertion, 
a  story  which  would  shame  her  and  ruin  Tony's  plans. 
She  could  have  stamped  her  foot  and  burst  into  tears, 
as  the  emotional  Spanish  "Dolores"  had  to  do  in  one 
scene  of  the  play:  but  the  reporters  were  all  eyes  and 
ears,   and  would  simply  "eat"   an  exhibition  of  the 


162  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

star's  fury  with  her  brand-new  bridegroom.  Oh,  she 
was  at  the  beast's  mercy  in  this  first  round  of  their  fight 
— and  well  he  must  know  it,  or  he'd  not  dare  give  her 
such  a  lead! 

"Of  course  Marise  wouldn't  leave  two  old  friends  in 
the  lurch  at  a  fortnight's  notice/'  Mrs.  Sorel  gave  her 
ultimatum.    "This  is  only  a  joke  of  Major  Garth's." 

"No,  Mums,  I'm  afraid  it  isn't,"  said  the  girl,  her 
cheeks  hot,  her  eyes  filling  with  tears.  "We — we  were 
talking  things  over  in  the  taxi  just  now,  and — and — 
well  anyhow  there's  a  fortnight  to  get  Susanne  Neville 
into  shape  as  Dolores  before  I  have  to — go.  She's  so 
clever  and  pretty,  I  shall  probably  be  jealous  as  a  cat 
of  the  hit  she  makes  in  'Dolores.'  " 

Mrs.  Sorel  was  stricken  dumb  for*  once.  Not  that 
she  intended  to  let  things  fall  to  pieces  in  any  such 
way ;  but  she  was  sure  Marise  wouldn't  pronounce  what 
sounded  like  her  own  doom  without  reason.  Mums 
would  have  it  out  with  Marise  and  the  Terrible  Garth 
when  everyone  else  had  safely  faded  away. 

The  best  she  could  do  was  to  go  herself  to  the  vesti- 
bule door  when  the  reporters  left  in  a  body  and  breathe 
a  few  words  to  them.  "I  wouldn't  take  all  this  as  being 
definitely  decided,  if  I  were  you.  There  may  be  a  quick 
change.  Better  say  that  nothing's  settled."  And  again, 
when  Belloc  and  Sheridan  gloomily  departed,  "Don't 
give  up.  I'll  'phone  you  later.  There's  sure  to  bo 
better  news !" 

Returning,  Mary  Sorel  the  dauntless  was  surprised 
and  disgusted  to  find  herself  vaguely  afraid  of  the  man 
she  had  despised.  She  had  the  same  fear  of  him  that 
one  has  of  an  impersonal  force  like  electricity,  which 
cannot  be  counted  on,  and  of  which  little  is  known 
except  that  it  may  strike  without  considering  one's 


AU  REVOIR— TILL  SOMETIME!         163 

feelings  in  the  least.  She  tried  to  shake  off  the  sensa- 
tion, however,  for  the  man  had  evidently  hypnotised 
Marise  in  some  secret,  deadly  way,  perhaps  hy  threats 
of  violence.  All  was  lost  if  she — Mary — did  not  keep 
her  head. 

She  entered  the  salon,  therefore,  with  a  bustling  air. 
"Now,  Major  Garth,"  she  began,  "I  hope  to  hear  the 
meaning  of  this — this  ridiculous  talk  of  my  daughter 
throwing  over  her  engagement  and  going  West  with 
you." 

"She's  thrown  over  one  engagement  in  favour  of 
another,  hasn't  she  ?"  Garth  inquired  with  his  habitual 
quiet  insolence.  "If  you  asked  the  Reverend  Mr* 
Jones,  I  think  he'd  say  she  had." 

"I  wish  to  ask  no  one  anything  about  my  daughter," 
Mrs.  Sorel  crushed  the  upstart.  "I  merely  assert  that 
it's  time  this  nonsense  ceased.  It's  gone  disastrously 
far  already." 

"It's  up  to  you  and  Marise  to  say  how  much  further 
it  shall  go." 

"  'Marise' !  Who  gave  you  permission  to  call  her 
Marise  IP 

Garth  laughed.  Even  the  girl  uttered  a  faint 
hysterical  giggle.  It  was  rather  funny  to  hear  poor 
Mums  ask  that!  But  then  Mums  prided  herself  on 
having  no  vulgar  sense  of  humour  to  interfere  with 
justice. 

"What  would  you  like  me  to  call  her?"  the  man 
wanted  to  know.  "  'Miss  Sorel'  would  be  hardly  proper 
now.  And  for  a  husband  to  call  his  wife  'Mrs.  Garth' 
would  be  more  suited,  wouldn't  it,  to  the  lower  circles 
I  sprang  from,  than  the  high  ones  where  she  moves  ?" 

Mary  Sorel  was  reduced  to  heaving  silence.  As  she 
bit  her  lip,  Garth  turned  to  Marise.    "Would  you  pre- 


164  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

fer  me  to  make  things  clear  to  your  mother,  or  would 
you  rather  I'd  go,  and  leave  it  to  you  ?" 

Marise  snatched  at  the  chance  he  gave.  "Go, 
please/'  she  answered  quickly.  "I'll — tell  Mums  what 
you — said  in  the  taxi.  She  and  I  will  talk  things  over, 
and — and  I'll  see  you  again  to-morrow  or  sometime." 

"Or  sometime,"  he  echoed. 

The  girl  expected  him  to  remind  her  rudely  of  the 
bridal  suite  he  had  engaged  in  the  hotel,  but  he  did  not. 
He  took  up  his  smart  Guards  cap,  laid  the  handsome 
lavender-grey  overcoat  on  his  arm,  and  went  to  the  door. 
"Au  revoir,"  he  said,  pronouncing  his  French  remark- 
ably well  for  a  man  of  the  lower  stratum.  Then,  with- 
out a  word  as  to  the  next  meeting,  in  spite  of  all  his 
threats,  he  was  gone. 

What  did  it  mean?  Marise  asked  herself.  Had  he 
been  bluffing?  Or  had  he  seen  the  monstrous  folly  of 
terrorising  her  ?  She  would  have  given  much  to  know. 
Perhaps  he  guessed  that ! 

Ostentatiously  Mums  flew  to  lock  the  door.  She 
locked  it  loudly,  and  running  back  took  Marise  into  her 
arms.  "My  poor  child!"  she  wailed.  "What  has  he 
done  to  you  ?    You  are  like  a  dove  with  a  snake !" 

Strange,  that  in  a  turmoil  of  anger  and  dread  as  she 
was,  Marise  was  continually  wanting  to  laugh!  THe 
thought  of  herself  as  a  fluttering  dove  and  the  big, 
brutal  Garth  as  a  sinuous  snake  was  comic !  But  there 
was,  alas,  nothing  else  comic  in  the  situation,  and  she 
explained  it  as  she  saw  it,  while  Mums  punctuated  each 
sentence  with  moans. 

"It's  awful!"  sighed  Mary  at  last.  "But  there's 
nothing  really  to  be  feared,  so  we  must  cheer  up.  Our 
protection  is  that  this  fellow's  poor  as  a  church  rat  (I 
cant  call  him  a  mouse!).    When  it  comes  to  the  point 


AU  REVOIR— TILL  SOMETIME!         165 

he  will  have  to  toe  the  mark,  and  keep  to  his  bar- 
gain  " 

"Ah,  that's  it!"  cried  Marise.  "He  says  through 
my  action  the  bargain  is  off.  He  wouldn't  explain  what 
he  meant :  said  I'd  see  for  myself  sooner  or  later.  But 
I  don't  see  yet.    Do  you  ?" 

"I  do  not,  indeed.  I  believe  it's  only  more  wicked 
bluff  on  his  part.  He  talks  of  taking  you  West  with 
him.  What  does  he  expect  you  to  live  on  ?  Your  own 
money  ?  He  hasn't  got  his  million  dollars  yet,  and  he'll 
lose  the  lot  unless  he  behaves  himself,"  Mums  laid  down 
the  law.  "For  goodness'  sake,  though,  don't  complain 
to  Tony  of  the  creature's  threats!  Tony  would  fight 
him — kill  him,  perhaps.  What  a  sickening  scandal! 
No,  you've  made  an  appalling  mistake  by  marrying 
Garth  before  you  needed  to  do  so,  and  giving  him  a 
hold  over  you  just  as  Tony  is  going  so  far  away.  But 
you  can  take  care  of  yourself — or  if  you  can't  I  can 
take  care  of  you.  As  for  this  suite  the  man  boasts 
about,  I'll  'phone  down  now  to  the  manager  and  ques- 
tion him.  If  it  adjoins  this,  as  it  probably  does — that 
would  have  been  arranged  if  possible,  no  doubt — why, 
everything  will  be  simple  enough." 

Marise  did  not  answer.  She  was  beginning  to  think 
that  nothing  was  quite  simple  where  Garth  was  con- 
cerned. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

WHY  THE  BARGAIN"  WAS  OFF 

M  ARISE  started  late  for  the  theatre,  because  she 
felt  unequal  to  coping  with  her  fellow  actors' 
and  actresses'  well-meaning  good  wishes.  She  went 
alone  with  Celine,  for  Mums  had  developed  a  nervous 
sick  headache,  and  the  girl,  like  a  dutiful  daughter, 
had  begged  her  to  rest  at  home. 

"You'll  be  more  able  to  help  me  out  with — any  com- 
plications that  may  come  afterwards,"  she  said. 

The  star's  wonderfully  decorated  dressing-room  was 
entered  through  a  still  more  wonderfully  decorated 
reception  or  ante-room ;  and  almost  running  in,  Marise 
stopped  short  with  a  gasp  of  surprise.  Not  only  was 
the  place  crammed  with  flowers — all  white,  bridal 
flowers  (that  in  itself  was  not  strange),  but  in  the  midst 
of  them  sat  Garth,  still  in  uniform.  As  his  wife  ap- 
peared he  rose,  grave  and  silent,  as  if  awaiting  a  cue. 

"Take  these  things  into  the  dressing-room,  Celine," 
ordered  Marise,  tossing  her  gold  bag  and  furs  to  the 
maid.    "I'll  be  there  in  a  minute." 

When  Celine  had  obeyed,  the  girl  looked  the  man  up 
and  down. 

"Visitors  don't  intrude  here,  except  by  invitation," 
she  informed  him. 

"Have  you  invited  Lord  Severance  to  intrude?" 
Garth  asked. 

"No-o,  I  haven't  invited  him." 

"But  he's  coming,  isn't  he  ?" 

166 


WHY  THE  BARGAIN  WAS  OFF         16T 

"Possibly  he  may  come.  You  know  quite  well,  that's 
different." 

"I  do  know.  Just  because  it  is  different,  I  don't 
mean  him  to  come  unless  I'm  here  too.  But  I've  no 
wish  to  interfere  .with  you  otherwise.  And  if  you  tell 
me  on  your  honour  that  you  won't  receive  Severance 
alone  (I  don't  count  your  maid  as  a  chaperon),  I'll  go 
now.  By  the  way,  don't  blame  anyone  for  admitting 
me.  The  news  is  in  all  the  late  editions  of  the  evening 
papers,  I  suppose  you  know,  and  naturally  the  bride- 
groom was  expected  to  pay  a  call  upon  the  bride." 

Marise  gazed  at  the  formidable  figure  in  khaki  for  a 
minute,  and  then  without  a  word  went  into  her  dressing- 
room. 

Mums.,  very  likely,  would  have  told  the  man  a  fib,, 
getting  rid  of  him  by  a  promise  not  to  see  Severance 
alone.  But  the  girl — though  she,  too,  told  fibs  some- 
times if  driven  into  a  corner — couldn't  bring  herself 
to  utter  one  now.  There  was  no  time  for  a  "scene," 
even  if  she  were  not  in  danger  of  coming  out  second 
best,  so  the  dignified  course  was  to  retire.  Tony 
wouldn't  show  up  till  the  end  of  the  first  act  at  earliest ; 
and  if  then  she  stood  talking  to  someone  or  other  out- 
side her  dressing-room  as  long  as  she  dared,  there 
might  be  time  for  a  whisper  with  him  while  the  watch- 
dog lay  vainly  in  wait  on  the  wrong  side  of  the  door ! 

Helped  by  Celine  she  dressed  quickly,  hearing  no 
sound  from  the  ante-room  until  the  call-boy  bounded  In 
to  shout  her  name.  Instantly  she  ran  through,  half 
hoping  that  Garth  had  gone,  though  determined  not  to 
glance  in  his  direction  if  he  were  still  on  the  spot.  He 
was;  and  somehow,  without  looking,  Marise  knew  that 
he  was  quietly  reading  a  book  as  if  the  place  belonged 
to  him. 


168  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Wild  applause  greeted  the  entrance  of  "Dolores," 
applause  even  more  ardent  than  usual,  and  the  play  had 
to  stop  for  the  bride  reluctantly  to  bow  her  acknowl- 
edgments. Marise  had  passed  such  an  "upsetting"  day 
that  she  came  near  having  an  attack  of  stage-fright, 
fearful  of  not  taking  her  cue,  or  "drying  up"  in  her 
words.  But  to  her  surprise  and  relief,  she  felt  herself 
stronger  in  the  part  than  she  had  ever  been  before.  "I 
believe  I  really  am  &  great  actress!"  she  thought;  and 
choked  at  the  pity  of  it — the  pity  that — whatever 
happened  now — she  was  bound  to  leave  the  stage.  "Is 
Tony  worth  it  all?"  she  wondered.  But  the  Other 
Man's  figure  loomed  so  tall  in  the  foreground,  that  she 
could  not  concentrate  on  Tony  long  enough  to  answer 
her  own  question. 

Never  had  "Dolores"  been  impatient  of  too  many 
curtain  calls  until  now:  but  to-night  they  were  irritat- 
ing. They  wasted  such  a  lot  of  time,  and  any  moment 
Tony  might  come ! 

There  was  little  time  to  linger  outside  her  dressing- 
room,  but  she  did  linger  for  a  few  minutes,  talking  with 
the  reproachful  Belloc.  No  card  or  message  was 
brought  to  her,  however,  and  she  knew  that  Severance 
would  not  have  been  sent  into  her  room  without  her 
permission.  Garth  sat  stolid  as  a  Buddha  when  she 
passed  through,  and  she  went  by  him  as  if  he  were  a 
piece  of  furniture.  She  received  a  telepathic  impres- 
sion that  he  did  not  lift  his  eyes  from  his  book ! 

The  leading  man  had  a  scene  with  the  villain  of  the 
piece  at  the  beginning  of  the  second  act,  and  this  gave 
the  star  a  chance  to  rest,  or  chat  with  friends.  It  was 
the  time  when  Severance  generally  dropped  in,  and  she 
"felt  in  her  bones"  that  his  name  would  now  be  an- 
nounced.   Nor  were  her  vertebrae  deceived.    Prompt  to 


WHY  THE  BARGAIN  WAS  OFF         169 

the  usual  moment  a  knock,  answered  by  Celine,  brought 
news  that  "the  Earl  of  Severance  asked  to  see  Miss 
Sorel." 

"Tell  him  I'll  come  outside  and  talk  with  him !"  she 
said  on  an  impulse:  but  in  the  ante-room  Garth  stopped 
her. 

"Don't  you  think/'  he  said,  "that  you'd  better  have 
Severance  shown  in  here?  He  won't  be  pleased  if  I 
come  out  with  you  as  if  from  your  dressing-room,  en 
famille,  so  to  speak.  And  I  shall  go  out  if  you  go,  as  in 
the  circumstances  I  don't  care  for  you  to  speak  with  him 
alone." 

"Alone,  do  you  call  it,  with  stage  hands  and  crea- 
tures of  all  sorts  tearing  about?"  Marise  rebelled. 

"You  can  build  up  a  wall  with  a  whisper,"  said 
Garth. 

As  the  girl  hovered  at  the  door,  undecided,  Celine 
returned.  "Milord  is  waiting  outside,  Mademoiselle — 
I  mean,  Madame,"  she  announced. 

"Go  back,"  ordered  Marise,  "and  ask  Lord  Severance 
after  all  to  come  in." 

The  fat  was  in  the  fire  now,  indeed!  Poor  Mums' 
counsels  concerning  Tony  were  vain.  He  would  see  for 
himself  how  Garth  repudiated  the  bargain.  But  it 
couldn't  be  helped.  Better  to  have  a  "row"  in  her  own 
quarters  than  outside! 

Severance  walked  into  the  reception  room,  at  his 
handsomest  in  evening  dress.  He  came  with  his  hands 
out  to  the  lovely  "Dolores,"  but  let  them  fall  at  sight 
of  Garth,  and  stopped  just  over  the  threshold,  with  a 
scowl  bringing  his  black  brows  together. 

Celine  flitted  by,  and  shut  the  door  of  the  dressing- 
room  behind  her. 

"What  are  you  doing  here?"     Tony  flung  out  the 


170  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

words ;  yet  he  had  an  odd  air  of  keeping  his  own  trucu- 
lence  under  control.  Marise  did  not  quite  understand 
his  manner,  in  which  prudent  hesitation  fought  with 
anger.  But  perhaps  Garth  understood.  He  knew  why 
Severance's  tooth  was  loose. 

"I'm  here/'  he  said,  "because  I  don't  choose  to  have 
my  wife  talking  with  you  alone." 

Severance  turned  to  the  girl.  "Marise,  do  you  per- 
mit this  man  to  be  in  your  room,  pretending  to  control 
your  actions  ?" 

"I  have  to,"  retorted  Marise.  "Since  he  won't  leave 
us  alone,  we  must  just  say  what  we  have  to  say  before 
him,  whether  he  enjoys  it  or  not.  He  isn't  behaving  at 
all  according  to — to  contract.  I  would  have  said  'bar- 
gain/ only,  whenever  I  mention  that,  he  tells  me  there 
isn't  a  bargain.  According  to  him,  I've  somehow 
destroyed  it." 

Severance  looked  stricken.  "Wha — what  does  he 
mean  by  that  ?" 

"I  don't  know.  Ask  him.  We've  got  about  fifteen 
minutes  to  have  this  out,  before  I'm  called." 

"That's  what  I'm  anxious  to  do,  'have  it  out/  "  said 
Garth.  "But  don't  be  alarmed,  my  wife;  there'll  be 
no  violence  started  by  me.  If  there  is.  any  it  will  come 
from  the  other  side,  whereupon  I  shall  put  the  disturber 
of  the  peace  out  of  your  room.  I'm  stronger  than  he 
is  physically,  as  he  knows:  and  I  hope  to  prove 
stronger  in  other  ways." 

"Dpn't  talk  like  the  villain  of  a  Melville  melo- 
drama!" blurted  Severance. 

"I  don't  think  Fm  the  villain  of  the  piece,"  said 
Garth  calmly.  "Anyhow,  we  won't  have  more  words 
about  this  than  we  need.  My  wife  and  you  both  want 
me  to  explain  why  I  say  she  has  made  the  so-called 


WHY  THE  BARGAIN  WAS  OFF         171 

'bargain/  nil.  I  believe,  Lord  Severance — to  put  the 
thing  as  it  is — to  face  the  facts — you  proposed  hiring 
me  for  the  sum  of  a  million  dollars,  to  marry  Miss 
Sorel,  treat  her  as  a  stranger  when  we  were  alone,  and 
as  a  kind  husband  in  company,  so  there  should  be  no 
ugly  gossip  about  •the  marriage.  Then,  when  you  were 
free  from  the  invalid  wife  you're  financially  compelled 
to  take,  I  was  supposed  to  step  out  of  your  way  by  let- 
ting this  lady  quietly  divorce  me." 

It  was  useless  to  protest  against  so  bald  a  way  of 
putting  the  matter,  which  sounded  disgusting  to  Sev- 
erance, and  could  have  been  thus  put,  he  considered, 
only  by  a  very  temporary  gentleman.  Therefore  he 
did  not  protest.  He  replied  with  stifled  fury  that, 
willingly,  even  eagerly,  Major  Garth  had  consented  to 
play  a  dummy's  part  in  order  to  earn  an  easy  million, 

"Exactly,"  said  Garth.  "Well,  I  have  married  Miss 
Sorel.    Where's  the  million  ?" 

"You  know  as  well  as  I  do  I  haven't  got  the  money 
yet,  and  can't  get  it  till  it's  given  me,  as  promised,  by 
my  uncle  Constantino  Ionides,  after  my  wedding." 

"So  you  explained  the  other  day.  You  admit  you 
can't  carry  out  your  half  of  the  bargain.  Yet  I've 
carried  out  mine." 

"That's  on  your  own  head !"  barked  Severance.  "If 
you  were  so  keen  on  money  down,  you  shouldn't  have 
married  Miss  Sorel  till  you  could  get  it." 

"What — you,  an  officer  in  the  Guards,  would  advise 
a  brother  officer  of  the  Brigade  to  refuse  to  marry  a  lady 
if  she  proposed  to  him  ?" 

"Oh!"  cried  Marise;  and  Garth  smiled  at  her  with 
the  yellow-grey  eyes  which  were  more  than  ever  like 
the  eyes  of  a  lion.    "You  did  propose,  didn't  you  ?" 


TO  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"I — said  I  wanted  to  be  married — to-day,"  the  girl 
hedged.     "If  you  call  that " 

"I  do.  Any  man  would.  You  were  in  a  hurry. 
You  hoped,  you  said,  that  things  might  be  fixed  up  for 
the  wedding  in  an  hour — or  less.  I  fixed  things  up. 
We  were  married.  Now  I  don't  get  my  money.  Con- 
sequently I  consider  myself  free  of  any  obligations 
concerned  with  the  bargain.  Though  I'm  willing  to 
take  legal  opinion  on  the  point,  if  you  like  V9 

"A  nice  figure  you'd  cut  if  you  did !"  exploded  Sev- 
erance. 

"I  should  say,  'the  woman — or  the  earl — tempted 
me,  and  I  did  eat.'  I  ate  by  request.  And  I'm  entitled 
to  a  core  to  my  apple.  There  isn't  any  core.  So  I  have 
the  right  either  to  chuck  the  peel  away  and  let  it  fall 
in  the  mud,  or  else  to  hang  on  to  it,  and  make  up  the 
best  way  I  can  for  what  lacks." 

"I  should  like  to  kill  you,  Garth,"  said  Severance. 

"Well,  when  we're  both  safely  out  of  my  wife's 
dressing-room  and  this  theatre,  I'll  give  you  a  chance  to 
try." 

The  lids  over  the  dark,  Greek  eyes  flickered  slightly. 
Between  the  two  men  was  a  memory,  a  picture :  a  room 
at  the  Belmore  Hotel,  with  a  table  and  some  chairs 
overturned:  a  few  spots  of  blood  on  a  lavender  tie:  not 
the  tie  of  Garth. 

"Being  out  of  her  theatre  wouldn't  save  Miss  Sorel 
from  scandal  if  we  made  fools  of  ourselves,"  '.Tony  said. 

"That's  the  sensible  view,"  agreed  Garth.  "I'm  at 
your  service  for  wai  or  peace.  But  the  fact  remains 
that  I  am  Marise  Sorel's  husband,  and  as  I'm  not  paid 
for  taking  on  the  job,  you,  Severance,  have  no  concern 
with  my  conduct  to  her.  The  rest  is  between  my  wife 
and  myself.    If  she  wishes  me  to  leave  her  I  will  do  so 


WHY  THE  BARGAIN  WAS  OFF         173 

now,  at  this  moment — on  my  own  terms.  If  she  wishes 
me  to  stay  by  her  side  for  appearance'  sake,  I'll  stay — 
also  on  my  own  terms." 

"What  are  your  terms?"  Tony's  dry  lips  formed 
the  words  almost  without  sound. 

"They'll  be  settled  to-night  between  my  wife  and  me. 
You  have  nothing  whatever  to  do  with  them." 

"If — if  you  fail  in  respect  for  her,  you  never  get 
your  million  dollars  when  the  time  comes!"  Severance 
almost  sobbed. 

"When  the  time  comes — the  time  can  decide,"  said 
Garth. 

'Miss  Sorel !"  bawled  the  call-boy  at  the  door. 


tc 


CHAPTEE  XX 

THE  BRIDAL  SUITE 

IT  was,  as  Severance  told  himself,  the  damnedest 
scrape !  And  he  could  see  no  present  way  out  of  it. 
Turn  as  he  would,  he  was  merely  running  round  and 
round  in  a  "vicious  circle." 

He  couldn't  murder  Garth,  or  otherwise  eliminate 
him,  without  setting  fire  to  his  dearest  hopes,  and  se&- 
ing  his  fortune  go  up  in  a  blaze.  Garth  mustn't  be 
allowed  to  walk  away  from  Marise,  leaving  her  in  the 
position  of  a  deserted  bride,  after  a  sensational  wed- 
ding. Nor  could  Severance  bear  to  think  of  the  man's 
remaining  near  her,  now  that  he  proclaimed  the  bar- 
gain "off,"  and  himself  free  and  independent. 

If  only  the  fellow  might  be  knocked  over  by  a  taxi 
and  killed,  there  would  be  the  perfect  solution!  But 
even  that  ought  not  to  happen  just  yet.  It  wouldn't 
do  for  Marise  to  be  known  as  a  widow  before  he,  Sev- 
erance, could  bring  GEnone  to  America  as  a  bride.  The 
celebrated  Miss  Sorel  might  as  well  never  have  been 
married  at  all,  so  far  as  old  Constantine  Ionides  was 
concerned. 

There  were  two  faintly  glimmering  spots  in  the  gen- 
eral blackness  of  things.  Bright  spots  they  hardly 
deserved  to  be  called !  Such  as  they  were,  one  was  the 
fact  that  Garth — despite  his  bluff — was  unlikely  to  sac- 
rifice all  hope  of  the  million  by  making  forbidden  love 
to  Marise.  The  other  gleam  was:  even  if  Garth  did 
play  the  fool  as  well  as  the  cad,  Marise  had  asserted 

174 


THE  BRIDAL  SUITE  175 

up  to  the  last  moment  that  she  could  take  care  of  her- 
self. 

Severance  had  reason  to  believe  that  she  could.  If 
she'd  not  had  a  cool  little  head,  and  a  high  opinion  of 
her  own  value,  the  favourite  actress  would  not  have 
attained  the  position  she  held.  "Lots  of  chaps  had  been 
after  her,"  including  Tony  Severance:  men  of  title, 
men  with  money,  men  of  genius,  men  of  charm,  and  she 
had  held  her  own  with  them  all,  forcing  their  respect. 
Well,  there  wasn't  much  chance  for  a  bullying  brute  of 
Garth's  stamp,  to  get  the  best  of  a  girl  like  that ! 

So  Severance  consoled  himself,  after  his  decision  at 
the  theatre  that  nothing  would  be  gained  by  attempting 
to  "rescue"  Marise  from  Garth.  After  leaving  her — 
bidding  her  good-bye  for  long  and  anxious  weeks — he 
could  not  resist  'phoning  Mrs.  Sorel  at  the  Plaza, 
though  Marise  had  told  him  that  Mums  was  bowled  over 
by  a  sick  headache.  He  rang  the  poor  lady  up — lit- 
erally up! — and  discussed  the  situation  with  her,  not 
daring  to  call  for  fear  of  detectives  set  upon  him  by 
cable  from  London.  The  poor  lady,  dragged  out  of 
bed,  was  sympathetic  and  soothing.  Everything  was 
"perfectly  all  right,"  she  assured  him.  She  would 
watch  over  Marise  for  his  sake  as  well  as  her  own. 
Marise  would  watch  over  herself,  too!  And  she — 
Mary  Sorel — would  write  or  cable  Tony  to  his  club 
twice  or  three  times  a  week. 

"I'd  go  down  to  the  docks  and  see  you  off  to-morrow 
morning,  dear  boy,  no  matter  at  what  ghastly  hour  you 
sail,"  Mums  said,  "only  I  don't  think  it  would  be  wise, 
do  you  ?" 

No,  Tony  didn't.  But  she  might  send  him  a  note  by 
messenger  to  the  ship,  with  all  the  latest  news. 

She  would  do  that  without  fail,  Mary  promised;  and 


176  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

so  at  last  hung  up  the  receiver  with  a  sigh  which  would 
have  frightened  Severance  had  it  reached  him  on  the 
wire.  Mums  was  not  as  calm  about  the  future  as  she 
had  tried  to  make  her  "dear  boy"  think ! 

Though  she  had  been  lying  down,  she  crawled  off  the 
bed  again,  and  put  on  a  smart  tea-gown  before  it  was 
time  for  her  daughter  to  come  home.  She  had  little 
doubt  that  the  Beast  would  be  with  Marise;  and  her 
own  attempt  at  "frightfulness"  having  failed  against 
his  armour  of  brutality,  she  intended  to  try  diplomacy 
in  the  next  encounter. 

Already  she  had  learned  that  the  suite  engaged  by 
Major  Garth  for  himself  and  his  bride  did  not  adjoin 
the  one  occupied  by  herself  and  Marise  since  their 
arrival  in  New  York.  It  appeared  that  the  manager 
had  offered  a  suite  of  two  rooms  and  a  bath  next  to 
the  Sorel  suite,  but  Major  Garth  had  refused  this  as 
being  too  small.  Nothing  "large  enough  for  his  re- 
quirements" had  been  available  near  Mrs.  Sorel;  but 
fortunately  it  was  on  the  same  floor. 

This,  the  manager  seemed  to  think,  ought  to  content 
the  lady ;  and  indeed,  she  was  obliged  to  pretend  satis- 
faction. She  would  like  to  see  the  suite,  she  had  said ; 
but  to  her  dismay  the  privilege  was  refused  with  regret. 
Major  Garth,  the  manager  explained,  had  given  a  "rush 
order"  for  some  special  decorations  to  surprise  Mrs. 
Garth ;  and  he  had  requested  that  no  one — no  one  at  all 
except  the  decorators — should  be  allowed  to  enter  until 
the  bridal  pair  arrived. 

"But,"  Mrs.  Sorel  had  argued,  "he  couldn't  have 
meant  me.  Besides,  if  no  one  goes  in,  my  daughter 
won't  have  any  of  her  toilet  things  ready.  There  will 
be  a  scramble  and  confusion  when  she  comes  home  tired 
from  the  theatre." 


THE  BRIDAL  SUITE  177 

The  manager,  however,  was  reluctantly  firm.  He 
"mustn't  tell  tales  out  of  school/'  but  he  thought  he 
might  just  relieve  Mrs.  SorePs  fears  by  saying  that 
there  would  be  no  trouble  at  all  of  that  sort.  The 
Major's  "surprise"  would — he  hoped — be  as  pleasing  to 
her  as  to  the  bride.  And  whatever  had  to  be  done  in 
addition  could  be  accomplished  in  a  few  minutes  by 
Mrs.  Garth's  maid. 

Naturally,  Mrs.  Sorel  was  on  tenterhooks  after  this 
information,  which  she  had  obtained  by  telephone,  lying 
on  her  bed,  soon  after  Marise  and  Celine  left  for  the 
theatre.  It  determined  her  to  be  prepared  for  battle, 
no  matter  how  ill  she  might  feel :  for  it  was  impossible 
that  Marise  should  ever  cross  the  threshold  of  that 
mysteriously  decorated  suite.  Therefore  the  neat 
coiffure  of  the  aching  head,  and  the  dignified  tea-gown 
of  satin  and  jet. 

On  the  few  occasions  when  Mums  had  been  unable 
to  go  with  Marise  to  the  theatre,  the  girl  had  either 
returned  early,  or  telephoned  that  she  would  be  late  in 
reaching  home.  Mrs.  Sorel  expected  her  to  start  for 
the  hotel  to-night  the  instant  she  was  dressed  and  had 
her  make-up  off.  She  would  doubtless  be  thankful  to 
escape  questions,  and  get  back  to  her  mother — which 
really  meant,  ridding  herself  of  Garth. 

But  time  crept  on.  Marise  was  half  an  hour  late: 
then  three-quarters.  What  could  have  happened  ?  Had 
that  monster  kidnapped  the  poor  child  ? 

At  the  thought,  Mums  experienced  the  sensation  of 
cold  water  slowly  trickling  through  her  spine.  "What 
shall  I  do?"  she  wondered.  And  her  mind  turned  to 
the  thought — the  terrible  thought — of  applying  to 
the  police.     If  she  took  this  extreme  step,  what  would 


178  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

be  the  result  ?  Could  a  man  be  arrested  for  abducting 
his  own  wife? 

As  she  writhed  and  sighed  helplessly  on  a  sofa  in 
sight  of  the  mantel  clock,  Celine's  familiar  tap  sounded 
at  the  door,  and  the  Frenchwoman  came  in.  Mrs, 
Sorel's  anguished  eyes  saw  that  she  looked  pale  and 
excited.  Her  own  heart  seemed  to  rise  and  shrug  itself 
in  her  breast,  then  collapse  sickeningly  upon  other 
organs. 

"For  Heaven's  sake,  where  is  Mademoiselle?"  she 
panted. 

"Ah,  Madame,"  sighed  Celine,  "we  must  speak  of 
Mademoiselle  no  more." 

"Why — why  ?"  broke  in  the  distracted  mother. 

"But,  because  she  is  now  indeed  'Madame' !  She  is 
with — her  husband." 

"Where  ?"  gasped  Mrs.  Sorel. 

"In  their  suite.    A  suite  of  great  magnificence." 

The  unhappy  Mums  staggered  to  her  feet,  among 
falling  cushions. 

"Good  gracious !"  she  groaned.  "He  has  dragged  her 
there " 

"No,  no,  Madame,  it  is  not  so  bad  as  that,"  Celine 
soothed  her.  "Madame  la  Jeune  Mariee  appeared  to 
go  with  Monsieur  of  her  own  will.  She  showed  no  fear. 
She  was  only  a  little  quiet — a  little  strange.  It  must 
have  been  arranged  at  the  theatre,  what  was  to  happen, 
for  I  was  with  them  in  a  car — but  yes,  a  car,  no  taxi ! — 
which  Monsieur  had  ordered  to  wait  at  the  stage  door. 
I  sat,  not  with  the  chauffeur,  but  inside  on  one  of  the 
little  fold-up  seats.  The  two  did  not  speak  at  all, 
Madame,  not  once,  till  we  had  arrived  here,  at  the 
hotel.  Then  Mademoiselle — I  mean  Madame  Garth — 
said,  'I  should  like  Celine  to  come  with  me.'     'Very 


THE  BRIDAL  SUITE  179 

well,  let  her  come/  Monsieur  answered.  That  was  all. 
I  went  with  them.  Monsieur  asked  for  his  key.  It  was 
given  him.  We  were  taken  up  in  the  ascenseur  to  this 
floor.  But  instead  of  turning  to  the  right,  we  turned 
left.  Monsieur  unlocked  the  door,  switched  on  lights, 
and  stood  aside  for  Madame  his  wife  to  pass.  Even  me, 
he  let  go  in  before  him.  Then  he  followed  and  shut  the 
door." 

"What  then  ?"  breathed  Mrs.  Sorel. 

"Mon  Dieu,  Madame,  the  suite  was  of  a  magnifi- 
cence! It  must  be  the  best  in  the  house.  The  suite 
in  which  they  put  royalties  who  come  visiting  from 
Europe.  And  not  only  that,  the  whole  place  has  been 
made  a  garden  of  flowers — wonderful  flowers.  This 
Monsieur  le  Majeur  must  be,  after  all,  though  he  does 
not  look  it,  a  millionaire !" 

"He  is  far  from  being  a  millionaire,"  sneered  Mums. 
"He  hasn't  a  sou,  so  far  as  I've  heard.  He'll  probably 
charge  all  this  wild  extravagance  to  us.  He's  capable 
of  it — capable  of  anything!    But  go  on." 

"Well,  Madame,  the  suite  has  an  entrance  hall  of  its 
own,  not  a  tiny  vestibule  like  this  one.  The  hall  has 
many  pots  of  gorgeous  azaleas,  of  colours  like  a  sunrise 
in  paradise.  Madame  la  Jeune  Mariee  walked  into 
the  salon.  The  husband  went  also.  But,  me,  I  stood 
outside  waiting.  I  could  seo  into  the  room,  however. 
I  chose  my  place  for  that  purpose,  to  see!  A  lovely 
salon  of  pearl  grey  and  soft  rose.  And  the  flowers  there 
were  all  roses,  different  shades  of  pink.  There  were 
many,  some  growing  in  pots,  very  tall;  some  cut  ones 
in  crystal  vases  and  jars:  and  on  a  table,  a  marvellous 
bowl,  illuminated,  with  flowers  floating  on  the  surface 
of  bright  water.     Also,  Madame,  there  were  presents, 


180  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

jewels  in  cases.     If  these,  as  Madame  says,  are  to  be 
charged  to  her,  Mon  Dieu,  it  will  be  a  disaster !" 

"What  were  the  presents?"  The  question  asked  it- 
self,  out  of  the  turmoil  that  was  Mums'  mind.  But 
behind  the  turmoil  a  voice  seemed  crying,  "Why  do  you 
stop  here  talking  of  trifles,  instead  of  rushing  to  save 
your  wretched  child  ?" 

But  Celine  was  replying.  After  all,  what  use  to  go, 
since  the  door  of  the  suite  would  be  closed,  and  one 
could  not  shriek  and  beat  upon  the  panels  for  the  whole 
world  to  hear ! 

"There  was  a  large  case  with  a  double  row  of  pearls. 
It  must  be,  I  think,  not  a  string,  but  a  rope.  There  was 
also  a  lovely  thing  for  the  hair,  a  wreath  of  laurel  leaves 
made  of  green  stones,  doubtless  emeralds.  And  there 
was  a  pendant,  a  star  of  diamonds  with  a  great  cabochon 
sapphire — Mademoiselle's  beloved  jewel! — in  the  cen- 
tre. There  may  have  been  other  things,  but  those  were 
all  I  remarked.  I  saw  them  from  the  doorway.  Yet, 
if  Madame  will  believe  me,  la  Jeune  Mariee  did  not 
regard  them.  Neither  did  Monsieur  draw  her  attention 
to  his  gifts — no,  not  by  gesture  nor  word." 

"She  must  have  said  something!"  cried  Mary. 

"She  murmured  that  the  flowers  were  charming. 
You  would  have  thought  she  had  not  seen  the  jewels, 
though  she  must  have  seen  them,  Madame,  if  I  saw 
from  my  distance.  Monsieur  asked  if  she  would  like  to 
view  the  rest  of  the  suite.  She  answered,  'Oh  yes, 
please!'  Then,  out  into  the  entrance  hall  they  came. 
Monsieur  threw  open  the  door  of  a  room  next  the  salon, 
and  as  he  did  so  put  on  the  lights.  But — with  that,  he 
stepped  back.  My  young  lady  called  me,  'Celine!'  I 
ran  to  her,  and  he  stopped  there  in  the  hall.  Ah, 
another  surprise!     Not  the  beauty  of  this  great  bed- 


THE  BRIDAL  SUITE  181 

room.  That  one  would  expect  in  such  a  suite — a  white 
room,  Madame,  and  white  flowers,  roses  not  too  heavily 
perfumed!  But  the  surprise  was  on  the  toilet-table. 
Brushes,  bottles,  everything,  oh,  so  delicious  a  set ! — in 
gold.  A  queen  could  have  no  better.  On  the  bed, 
Madame,  lay  a  robe  de  chambre  more  beautiful  than 
any  that  Mademoiselle  has  ever  possessed — which  Ma- 
dame knows,  is  to  say  much! — and  on  the  floor — like 
blossoms  fallen  on  the  white  fur  rug — lay  a  little  pair 
of  mules,  made  of  gold  embroidery  on  cloth  of  silver, 
and  having  buckles  of  old  paste  fit  for  the  slippers  of 
Cinderella!  When  she  had  looked  round  for  a  few 
moments,  quite  silent,  Madame,  the  bride  turned  to  me. 
(Now  you  have  seen  what  is  here,  Celine,'  she  said,  'you 
can  go  to  my  room  and  bring  me  just  the  things  you 
think  I  shall  need.'  n 

"Did  she  give  you  the  key  of  the  suite?"  Mary  asked 
sharply. 

"But  no,  Madame,  she  did  not  give  me  a  key.  I 
shall  have  to  knock." 

"Very  well,  run  and  put  a  few  things  together,"  Mary 
directed.  "It  doesn't  much  matter  what,  as  Made- 
mois — my  daughter — will  not,  I  think,  stay  long  in  the 
suite.  When  you  are  ready,  come  back  here  to  me.  I 
will  go  down  with  you.  When  the  door  is  opened,  I 
shall  walk  in  before  it  can  be  shut.  But  mind,  you  will 
speak  or  hint  to  no  one  of  what  I  do,  or  what  I  say  to 
you — or  what  you  may  see  or  overhear." 

"Madame  may  depend  upon  me,"  Celine  assured  her* 
"Ah,  that  poor  Milord  Severance!  Mais,  c'est  le 
Destin!" 


CHAPTER  XXI 

KEEPING   UP   APPEABANCEs! 

YOU  said  at  the  theatre,  if  I  trusted  you  enough 
to  come  here  with  you/'  Marise  began  as  Celine 
left,  "you  would  tell  me  a  plan  you  thought  I'd  ap- 
prove. Well,  I  did  trust  you !  I  had  to,  just  as  I  had 
to  this  afternoon  when  you  said  the  same  thing  in  the 
taxi.  Here  I  am.  But  so  far,  I  don't  see  anything 
that  reassures  me  much.  All  the  flowers  and  jewel-cases 
and  gold  things  are  beautiful  bribes.  The  only  trouble 
about  them  is,  that  I  don't  take  bribes — even  if  you  can 
afford  to  offer  them!" 

"I  understand  that  emphasis,"  said  Garth.  "You 
don't  take  bribes.  I  do.  And  you  think,  in  making  this 
collection  I've  'gambled  in  futures.' " 

Marise  was  silent. 

"That's  what  you  do  think,  isn't  it  ?"  he  insisted. 

"Something  of  the  sort  may  have  flitted  through  my 
head." 

"Well,  if  I'm  not  above  bribery  and  corruption — and 
the  rest  of  it — that's  on  my  own  conscience.  In  other 
words,  it's  my  own  business.  Your  business  is — to  keep 
up  appearances,  and  at  the  same  time  keep  up  the 
proprieties." 

"That's  one  way  of  expressing  it !" 

"Yes,  again  my  beastly  vulgar  way!  But  I  won't 
stop  to  apologise  because  I  know  you're  in  a  hurry  to 
settle  this  question  between  us  once  for  all.     Because, 

182 


KEEPING  UP  APPEARANCES !  183 

when  it  is  settled,  it  will  be  once  for  all,  so  far  as  I'm 
concerned." 

"I  see.    Go  on,  please!" 

He  looked  at  her,  a  long  look.  "You  and  I  are  here 
alone  together,"  he  said.  "Husband  and  wife!  For 
we  are  married,  you  know.  Does  that  make  you  shiver 
— or  shudder  ?" 

"I  don't  think  we  feel  very  married — either  of  us," 
Marise  answered  in  a  small,  ingratiating  voice,  like  a 
child's. 

"You  don't  know  how  I  feel,"  said  Garth.  "But 
I'm  not  anxious  to  punish  you  by  torture  for  anything 
you've  done,  no  matter  what  you  may  deserve,  so  I 
won't  keep  you  in  suspense.  You  admit  that  if — we  did 
'feel  married,'  and  if — we  cared  about  each  other  as 
ordinary  new-married  couples  do,  this  'bridal  suite' — 
as  they  call  it — would  be  the  proper  dodge  ?" 

"Oh  yes,"  agreed  Marise,  wondering  what  he  was 
working  up  to.  Her  heart  was  beating  too  fast  for  her 
wits  to  be  at  their  nimblest,  but  she  hadn't  missed  those 
words  of  his  which  had  either  slipped  out,  or  been 
spoken  with  subtle  purpose:  "If  we  cared  about  each 
other."  Only  a  few  days  ago — apparently  with  his 
soul  in  his  eyes — he  had  said  that  he'd  give  that  soul 
to  get  her  for  his  own.  Well,  the  incredible  had  hap- 
pened, and  she  was  his  own — in  a  way.  Was  he  so  dis- 
gusted with  her  behaviour  and  motives  that  he'd  sud- 
denly ceased  to  care  ?  Or  was  he  silly  enough  to  think 
it  would  hurt  her  if  he  pretended  not  to  care?  Cer- 
tainly she  had  done  nothing  worse  than  he\  had! 
Whatever  he  might  think,  she  had  married  him  largely 
from  pique,  to  spite  Tony  Severance ;  though,  of  course, 
that  wasn't  to  say  she  wouldn't  carry  out  Tony's  scheme 
when  the  time  came.     Whereas  he,  John  Garth,  had 


134  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

accepted  a  bribe.  She  was  worth  a  million  dollars  to 
Tony:  and  the  million  dollars  were  worth  a  basely 
caddish  act  to  Garth. 

"You  want  your  friends  and  the  public  in  general 
to  believe  we  are  the  ordinary  loving  couple,  don't  you  ?" 
he  was  asking. 

"Of  course.  I  may  have  earned  them,  but  I  don't 
want  horrid  things  said.    Especially " 

"Especially  on  Severance's  account,  and  because  of 
the  arrangements  he  proposes  to  make  for  your  future, 
I  suppose  you  were  going  to  say.    Why  stop  ?" 

"Because  you  suppose  wrong.  I  wasn't  going  to  say 
anything  of  the  kind.  'Especially  on  account  of  poor 
Mums,'  were  the  words  on  the  tip  of  my  tongue.  I 
stopped — well,  I  thought  it  sounded  sentimental.  Be- 
sides, you'd  probably  not  believe  me." 

"I  think  I  would  believe  you,"  said  Garth.  "I  don't 
know  you  very  well  yet,  but  things  that  have  happened 
have  shown  me  a  bit  of  what  you're  like,  inside  your- 
self. You've  got  plenty  of  faults.  I  should  say  you're 
as  selfish  as  they  make  'em.  You  don't  really  take  much 
interest  in  anything  that  doesn't  affect  you  and  your 
affairs.  You've  been  badly  spoiled,  but  not  quite 
ruined:  and  I  think  you  don't  enjoy  telling  lies." 

"Thank  you  for  your  charming  compliments!" 
flashed  Marise,  the  blood  in  her  cheeks.  Spoiled  in- 
deed !  Everyone  said  she  was  wonderfully  unspoiled — 
simple  and  sweet-natured  as  a  child.  Those  were  the 
people  who  knew  her ! 

"To  get  back  to  a  more  important"  subject,"  went  on 
Garth ;  "I  was  going  to  tell  you  that,  honestly,  one  half 
the  reason  I  took  this  suite  and  made  you  come  to  it 
with  me,  was  for  your  sake:  to  have  you  do  the  right, 
conventional,  bridal  thing  everyone  expects  of  you,  and 


KEEPING  UP  APPEARANCES !  185 

would  be  blue  with  curiosity  if  you  didn't  do.  The 
other  half  was  to  find  out  whether  you  were  capable  of 
rising  to  an  occasion." 

"Rising — how?"  questioned  Marise. 

"Rising  high  enough  to  trust  a  man  to  do — after  his 
lights — the  decent  thing.  Not  to  carry  out  a  bargain, 
because  there  is  none.  I'd  be  breaking  no  promise  if  I 
grabbed  you  in  my  arms  this  moment.  I  mean,  the 
decent  thing  that  any  man  owes  any  woman  who  puts 
herself  in  his  power.  Now  I've  said  enough.  You'll 
understand  me  better  in  a  minute  by  going  over  this 
suite,  than  by  listening  to  an  hour's  explanation  in 
words.  I'll  wait  for  you  here."  (They  were  in  the 
salon.)  "Walk  round,  and  draw  your  own  conclusions. 
Then  come  back  and  tell  me  what  the  conclusions  are." 

Marise  was  quite  sharp  enough  to  guess  what  he 
meant,  but — stepping  out  into  the  azalea-filled  entrance 
hall,  she  passed  the  open  door  of  the  beautiful  white 
bedroom.  Beyond  it  was  another  door.  She  opened 
this,  and  touching  an  electric  switch,  flooded  a  room 
with  light. 

Here,  too,  was  a  bedroom,  smaller,  less  elaborate, 
more  suited  to  the  occupation  of  a  man  than  the  other. 
Instead  of  the  carved  white  wood  and  gilded  cane  of  the 
room  next  door,  the  furniture  was  mahogany,  of  the 
Queen  Anne  period;  and  the  carpet,  instead  of  pale 
Aubusson,  was  the  colour  of  wallflowers.  There  were 
some  plain  ebony  brushes  and  toilet  things  on  the 
dressing-table,  and  underneath  the  table  were  boot-trees. 
Evidently  Garth  had  had  his  belongings  brought  over 
from  the  Belmore! 

A  glance  sufficed  Marise.  She  went  slowly  back  to 
the  salon  where  Garth  stood  staring  down  on  the  dis- 
play of  jewellery  on  the  table. 


186  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Well  ?"  He  looked  up  with  something  defiant  and 
oddly  sullen  about  his  face.  "You  understand  my 
'plan'  ?" 

"Yes,"  said  Marise.    "I  understand.    But " 

"But  what?  Didn't  you  try  the  door  between  that 
other  room  and  your  own,  and  satisfy  yourself  that 
it's  locked  with  the  key  on  your  side  1" 

"I  didn't  try  it,"  the  girl  answered,  "because — I  was 
somehow  sure  it  would  be  like  that." 

"Why  were  you  sure?" 

"I  don't  know,  exactly.    I  was." 

"Your  sureness  was  the  result  of  trust  in  me,  as  a 
decent  man  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  you  think  I'm  not 
a  gentleman  ?" 

"Ye-es,  I  suppose  it  was  trust." 

"Then  why  that  'but'  just  now?" 

"Oh — it's  rather  hard  to  put  into  words  what  was  to 
come  after  the  'but' — without  hurting  your  feelings. 
And  I  don't  want  to  do  that.  It  only  makes  things  a 
lot  worse." 

"I  don't  mind  having  my  feelings  hurt.  I'm 
hardened.  Besides,  if  you  hurt  mine  I'm  free  to  hurt 
yours  if  I  like  in  return.    Shoot !" 

"Well — I  believe  you  mean  what  you've  said  to  me — 
and  shown  me.  I  do  trust  you — now.  But  for  how 
long  dare  I  ?    Can  you  trust  yourself  ?" 

He  smiled  down  at  her ;  and  it  looked  like  a  scornful 
smile,  but  of  course  it  couldn't  be  that.  "Your  question 
is  easy  to  answer,"  he  said.  "I  trust  myself,  and  shall 
continue  to  trust  myself,  because  there's  no  temptation 
to  resist.  I  shall  keep  to  my  own  half  of  this  suite,  with 
the  less  difficulty  because  I  haven't  the  slightest  wish  to 
intrude  on  yours.  Now  you  know  where  you  stand. 
But  there's  a  knock !    I  suppose  that's  your  maid." 


CHAPTER  XXII 

A  SHOCK  AND  A  SNUB  OB  TWO 

FT  was  the  maid.  It  was  also  Mrs.  Sorel,  who  pushed 
■*  past  Celine  and  darted  into  the  hall. 

"My  darling!"  she  shrilled  at  sight  of  Marise. 
"You  look  as  if  you'd  had  a  most  horrible  shock !" 

It  was  just  this  that  the  girl  had  had:  the  shock  of 
her  life.  She,  undesired — not  a  temptation!  Alone 
with  a  man — a  mere  brute — who  had  the  strength  and 
the  legal  right  to  take  her  against  her  will,  but  re- 
mained cold ;  did  not  want  her. 

She  might  have  believed  this  statement  to  be  a  sequel 
to  that  hint  about  "hurting  her  feelings  if  he  liked/' 
but  Garth's  face  was  cold.  It  might  have  been  carved 
from  rock.  It  looked  like  rock — that  red-brown  kind. 
There  was  no  fierce,  controlled  passion  in  the  tawny 
eyes,  such  as  men  on  the  stage  would  carefully  have 
betrayed  in  these  situations,  or  such  as  men  had  far 
from  carefully  betrayed  to  her  in  real  life,  disgusting 
or  frightening  her  at  the  time:  though  afterwards  the 
scene  had  pleased,  or — well  flattered  her  to  dwell  on  in 
safe  retrospect.  It  was  rather  glorious,  though  some- 
times painful,  she'd  often  said  to  herself,  the  power  she 
had  to  make  men  feel.  Yet  this  Snow-man  didn't  feel 
at  all.  He  simply  didrit!  You  could  see  that  by  his 
icicle  of  a  face. 

"You  mustn't  worry,  dear  Mums,"  soothed  Marise. 
"I'm  doing  the  best  thing  for  everyone:  keeping  up 

187 


188  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

appearances !  And  as  Major  Gartli  dislikes  me — I  am 
not  his  style,  it  seems — I'm  perfectly  safe.  Safe  as  if  I 
were  in  our  rooms,  with  you." 

Garth  gazed  gravely  at  Mrs.  Sorel.  "She's  safer 
than  with  you,  Madame.  I  assure  you  she's  as  safe  as 
— as  if  she  were  in  cold  storage." 

Mary  gasped. 

Marise  laughed. 

But  she  felt  as  though  she'd  read  in  a  yellow  news- 
paper that  Miss  Sorel  was  the  plainest  girl  and  the 
worst  actress  in  the  world. 

•  •••••• 

Mums  was  persuaded  to  go,  at  last,  after  having 
upbraided  her  daughter,  with  tears,  for  forcing  them  all 
— including  Lord  Severance — into  such  a  deplorable, 
such  a  perilous  situation. 

As  for  the  peril,  after  Garth's  words,  and  still  more 
his  look,  all  thrill  of  danger  and  the  chance  of  a  fight, 
with  a  triumphant  if  exhausting  close,  had  died. 
Marise  felt  dull  and  "anti-climaxy,"  and  homesick  for 
her  friends,  the  dear  public  who  loved  and  appreciated 
her.  Celine  remained  to  undress  her  mistress,  having 
(despite  Mrs.  Sorel's  advice)  brought  various  articles 
from  Marise's  own  room.  When  at  last  the  bride  was 
ready  for  bed  in  a  dream  of  a  "nighty"  fetched  by  her 
maid,  Celine  thought  of  the  jewels  on  a  table  in  the 
salon. 

By  this  time  the  room  was  empty,  Garth  having 
retired  like  a  bear  to  his  den;  and  the  Frenchwoman 
took  it  on  herself  to  transfer  the  valuables  to  the  bed- 
room adjoining.  "They  will  be  safer  here,"  she  said. 
"Unless  Mademoiselle — Madame — would  like  me  to 
carry  the  cases  to  the  other  suite  and  put  them  in  the 
care  of  Madame  his  mother." 


A  SHOCK  AND  A  SNUB  OR  TWO        189 

"No,  leave  everything  here,"  directed  Marise. 

She  had  made  up  her  mind  not  to  keep  the  gifts. 
They  were  beautiful,  and  she  wouldn't  have  been  a 
woman  if  she'd  not  wanted  them.  But  she  wanted  still 
more  the  stern  splendour  of  handing  the  spoil  back  to 
Garth,  advising  him  to  return  the  jewels  whence  they 
came,  since  only  millionaires  should  buy  such  expensive 
objects.  But  she  would  not  of  course  take  a  servant, 
even  Celine — who  knew  everything  and  a  little  more 
than  everything — into  her  confidence. 

She  gave  the  Frenchwoman  a  key  (which  had  been 
handed  her  by  Garth)  to  use  in  the  morning,  when  the 
time  came  for  early  tea,  a  bath,  and  being  dressed. 
Then,  when  the  maid  had  departed  with  a  click  of  the 
outer  door,  an  idea  sprang  into  the  mind  of  Marise.  At 
first  she  thought  it  would  not  do.  Then  she  thought  it 
would.  And  the  more  she  thought  in  both  directions, 
the  more  she  was  enmeshed  by  the  idea  itself. 

Only  half  an  hour  had  elapsed  since  Garth  went  to 
his  room.  The  man  wouldn't  be  human,  after  what 
they'd  passed  through,  if  he  had  gone  to  bed.  Marise 
was  sure  he  had  done  no  such  thing:  and  she  fancied 
that  she  caught  a  faint  whiff  of  tobacco  stealing  through 
the  keyhole  of  that  stout  locked  door  between  their 
rooms. 

At  last  she  could  no  longer  resist  the  call  of  the  blood 
— or  whatever  it  was.  She  switched  on  the  light  again, 
jumped  up,  and  looked  for  a  dressing-gown.  Bother! 
Celine  hadn't  brought  one — had  taken  it  for  granted 
she  would  use  that  wonderful  thing  which  Garth's  taste 
— or  the  taste  of  some  hidden  guide  of  his — had  pro- 
vided. 

Well,  what  did  it  matter,  anyhow?  She  would  slip 
it  on — and  the  sparkling  gold  and  silver  mules,  too. 


190  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

She  glanced  in  the  long  Psyche  mirror.  She  did  look 
divine !  Even  a  rock-carved  statue  couldn't  deny  that  I 
Gathering  up  the  jewels,  she  unlocked  the  door  which 
led  into  the  hall,  and  tapped  at  the  door  of  Garth's 
room,  adjoining  her  own. 

"If  you're  not  in  bed,"  she  called,  "come  out  a 
minute,  will  you  ?    I've  something  important  to  say." 

All  that  was  minx  in  Marise  was  revelling  in  the 
thought  that  presently  Garth  would  suffer  a  disappoint- 
ment. He  would  imagine  that  she  wished  to  plead  for 
grace  from  him.  Then,  before  he  could  snub  her,  she'd 
give  him  the  snub  of  his  life — just  as  he  had  given  her, 
Marise  Sorel,  the  shock  of  hers ! 

Garth  did  not  answer  at  once.  The  girl  was  hesi- 
tating whether  to  call  him  again,  when  his  voice  made 
her  start.  It  sounded  sleepy!  "I  am  in  bed,"  he  said. 
"What  do  you  want?  Is  it  too  important  to  wait  till 
morning  ?" 

"It's  merely  that  I  wished  to  put  the  jewels  which 
were  left  in  the  salon  into  your  charge,"  Marise  replied 
with  freezing  dignity.  "I  do  not  think  they  are  safe 
there." 

"Wouldn't  they  be  safe  enough  with  you?"  came 
grumpily — yes,  grumpily ! — through  the  closed  door. 

"No  doubt.  But  I  don't  wish  to  have  the  responsi- 
bility, as  I  don't  care  to  accept  them.  .  .  ." 

"Oh,  I  see !  Well,  if  that's  your  decision,  it  doesn't 
matter  whether  they're  safe  or  not.  Leave  the  things 
in  the  corridor  if  your  room's  too  sacred  for  them.  If 
that's  all  you  want,  I  shall  not  get  out  of  bed." 

What  a  man! 

"One  would  think  you  were  a  multi-millionaire!" 
Marise  couldn't  resist  that  one  last,  sarcastic  dig. 


A  SHOCK  AND  A  SNUB  OR  TWO        191 

"So  I  may  be  for  all  you  know.  Do  what  you  like 
with  the  silly  old  jewels." 

Marise  threw  the  cases  on  the  floor  as  loudly  as  she 
could.  She  knew  that  the  outer  door  was  locked,  and 
that  Celine  would  be  the  first  person  in,  when  morning 
came,  so  the  act  wasn't  as  reckless  as  it  seemed.  But  it 
was  a  relief  to  her  nerves  at  the  moment. 

The  filmy  dressing-gown,  the  sparkling  mules,  the 
hair  down,  the  general  heartbreaking  divineness,  were 
wasted. 


CHAPTEE  XXIII 


THE   DREAM 


T\TAKISE  slept  little,  in  what  was  left  of  tliat 
•*■  *■*    strange  wedding  night. 

She  tried  to  think  of  Tony  Severance,  who  must  be 
suffering  tortures  through  his  love  and  fears  for  her. 
But  somehow  he  had  lost  importance.  He  had  become 
a  figure  in  the  background.  Her  thoughts  would  turn 
their  "spot  light"  upon  the  man  in  the  adjoining  room. 

Was  he  asleep  ?  Was  he  awake  ?  Was  he  thinking 
about  her,  and  if  so,  what  ?  Why  had  he  married  her  ? 
If  it  was  for  love,  as  she  had  fancied  at  first,  could  he 
have  treated  her  as  he  had  ?  That  was  hard  to  believe ! 
Yet  it  was  harder  to  believe  his  motives  wholly  mer- 
cenary. 

"Perhaps  that's  because  I'm  vain,"  the  girl  told  her- 
self. And  she  remembered,  her  cheeks  hot,  how  Garth 
had  accused  her  of  vanity  and  selfishness.  He'd  said 
that  she  took  no  interest  in  anything  which  didn't  con- 
cern Marise  Sorel.  She  had  been  angry  then,  and 
thought  him  unjust  and  hard.  But  in  her  heart  she 
knew  that  he  had  touched  the  truth.  She  was  vain  and 
selfish.  And  she  was  hard,  too,  just  as  hard  to  him  as 
he  to  her. 

"He  has  made  me  so !"  she  excused  herself.  "I  was 
never  hard  to  anyone  else  before,  in  all  my  life." 

But  she  could  not  rest  on  this  special  pleading.  What 
right  had  she  to  be  hard  to  this  man  ?    She  had  ashed 

192 


THE  DREAM  193 

him  to  many  her.  His  crime  was  that  he  had  granted 
her  wish  and  consented  to  play  this  dummy  hand ;  and 
now  the  deed  was  done  he  was  not  grovelling  to  her  or 
to  Tony  Severance.  How  much  more  British  he  seemed, 
by  the  by,  than  dark,  Greek  Tony,  of  subtle  ways ! 

At  luncheon,  talking  with  Pobbles,  he  had  spoken  of 
Yorkshire  as  his  county.  Marise  wondered  what  he  had 
meant.  But,  of  course,  she  would  not  ask.  John 
Garth's  past  was  no  affair  of  hers.  Still,  she  couldn't 
stop  puzzling  about  him.  She  puzzled  nearly  all  night. 
He  was  turning  out  such  a  different  man  from  the  man 
she  had  vaguely  imagined!  In  fact,  he  was  different 
from  any  man  she  had  ever  met,  off  the  stage  or  on. 

Staring  into  darkness  as  the  hours  passed,  Marise 
felt  that  she  could  not  wait  for  Celine.  She'd  get  up  at 
dawn,  dress,  and  flit  to  her  own  room  in  Mums'  suite. 
But  no !  She  couldn't  do  that.  She  hadn't  a  key  to  that 
suite.  She  would  have  to  pound  on  the  door,  and  other 
people  beside  Mums  and  Celine  would  hear.  There 
would  be  gossip — which  she'd  sacrificed  much  already 
to  avoid. 

Dreading  the  long  night  of  wakefulness,  the  girl  sud- 
denly dropped  fast  asleep,  and  began  at  once  to  dream 
of  Garth.  Zelie  Marks  was  in  the  dream,  too,  and — 
dreams  are  so  ridiculous! — Marise  was  jealous.  What 
had  happened  between  the  two  she  didn't  know;  but 
she  would  have  known  in  another  instant,  for  Zelie  was 
going  to  confess,  if  a  rap  had  not  sounded  at  the  door 
and  made  her  sit  up  in  a  fright.  Marise  was  just  about 
to  cry,  "You  can't  come  in!"  when  she  realised  that 
it  was  the  peculiar  double  knock  of  Celine. 

The  Frenchwoman  was  prompt,  though  the  night  had 
seemed  so  long.  Her  mistress  sipped  hot,  fragrant 
Orange  Pekoe  from  an  eggshell  cup,  and  in  a  whisper 


194  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

bade  Celine  move  quietly,  not  to  rouse  Monsieur  Garth 
in  the  next  room. 

"Oh,  Mademoiselle — Madame!"  said  the  maid. 
"Monsieur  has  gone  out,  early  as  it  is.  His  door  is 
wide  open." 

Marise  must  have  slept  more  soundly  than  she  knew. 
She  hadn't  heard  a  sound. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  ask  Celine  about 
the  jewel-cases — if  they  were  lying  in  the  corridor.  But 
she  couldn't  put  such  a  question !  The  maid  would  be 
too  curious — she  would  fancy  there  had  been  some  vul- 
gar quarrel  instead  of — instead  of — well,  Marise  hardly 
knew  how  to  qualify  her  own  conduct. 

"I'm  afraid  I  was  vulgar,"  she  thought,  like  a  child 
repenting  last  night's  misdeeds.  "It  was  horrid  of  me 
to  throw  those  lovely  things  on  the  floor.  Poor  fellow, 
he  must  have  spent  a  fortune — somebody's  fortune 
(whose,  I  wonder?) — on  those  pearls,  and  diamonds 
and  emeralds,  and  all  the  rest.  Yet  I  never  said  one 
word  of  gratitude.  I  was  never  such  a  brute  before! 
.  .  .  I'm  sure  it  must  be  his  fault.  Still — I  don't  like 
myself  one  bit  better  than  I  like  him." 

As  Garth  had  gone  out,  there  was  no  great  need  for 
haste.  Celine  had  brought  all  that  was  needed,  and 
Marise  might  dress — as  well  as  repent — at  leisure.  But 
she  was  wild  with  impatience  to  know  whether  the 
jewels  were  lying  where  she  had  thrown  them.  While 
Celine  was  letting  the  bath-water  run,  the  girl  peeped 
out  into  the  flower-scented  corridor.  The  jewel-cases 
had  gone ! 

This  discovery  gave  her  a  slight  shock.  She  had 
more  than  half  expected  to  see  them  on  the  floor,  and 
had  wondered  what  she  would  do  if  they  were  there — 
whether  she  would  pick  them  up  and  decide  to  accept 


THE  DREAM  195 

the  gifts  after  all,  with  a  stiff,  yet  decent  little  speech  of 
gratitude.  "I'm  sure  you  meant  to  do  what  I  would 
like,  and  I  don't  wish  to  hurt  your  feelings,"  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort. 

Now,  what  should  she  do  ?  The  probability  was  that 
Garth  himself  had  retrieved  his  rejected  treasures.  But 
there  was  just  a  chance — such  horrors  happened  in 
hotels ! — that  a  thief  had  pussy-footed  into  the  suite  to 
search  for  wedding  presents,  and  had  found  them  easily 
in  an  unexpected  place.  That  would  be  too  dreadful! 
Because,  if  she — Marise — held  her  tongue,  Garth  would 
always  believe  that  she  had  annexed  the  things,  and  had 
chosen  to  be  sulkily  silent. 

"I  shall  have  to  bring  up  the  subject  somehow,  the 
next  time  we  meet — whenever  that  may  be!"  she 
thought  ruefully. 

When  Mrs.  Garth  arrived  in  the  maternal  suite,  it 
was  about  the  hour  when  Miss  Sorel  had  been  in  the 
habit  of  slipping,  half-dressed,  from  bedroom  to  salon. 
It  was  the  time,  also,  when  Miss  Zelie  Marks  was  ac- 
customed to  present  herself,  and  begin  her  morning 
tasks:  sharpening  pencils,  sorting  letters,  etc.  But  to- 
day the  salon  was  unoccupied.  The  letters  lay  in  a 
fat,  indiscriminate  heap,  just  as  Celine  had  received 
them  from  one  of  the  floor-waiters. 

Mrs.  Sorel  was  still  in  bed,  and  still  suffering  from 
last  night's  headache,  which  had  increased,  rather  than 
diminished.  She  burst  into  tears  at  sight  of  Marise,  but 
was  slowly  pacified  on  hearing  the  story  of  the  night. 

"He  was  afraid  to "  she  began ;  but  the  girl  broke 

in  with  the  queerest  sensation  of  anger.  "He  wasn't 
afraid — of  anything!  Whatever  else  he  may  have  been, 
he  wasn't  afraid.  I  don't  believe  the  creature  knows 
how  to  be  afraid." 


196  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Mrs.  Sorel  did  not  insist.  She  didn't  wish,  to  waste 
time  discussing  Garth.  She  wanted  to  talk  of  Tony. 
There  was  a  letter  from  him.  It  had  come  by  hand, 
early — sent  as  he  was  starting.  Of  course  he  hadn't 
dared  write  to  Marise  direct,  but  there  was  an  enclosure 
for  her. 

"You  had  better  read  it  now,"  advised  Mums.  "At 
any  moment  that  man  may  turn  up,  asking  for  you,  and 
trying  to  make  some  scene." 

Marise  took  the  crested  envelope  that  had  come  inside 
her  mother's  note  from  Tony;  but  somehow  or  other  she 
felt  an  odd  repulsion  against  it.  She  didn't  care  to  read 
what  Tony  had  to  say  to  Mrs.  John  Garth  at  parting; 
and  she  had  an  excuse  to  procrastinate  because,  just 
then,  the  telephone  sounded  in  the  salon  adjoining. 

"Will  you  go,  dearest  ?  Or  shall  I  ring  for  Celine  ?" 
Mums  asked. 

Marise  answered  by  walking  into  the  salon  and  pick- 
ing up  the  receiver.  Her  heart  was  beating  a  little  with 
the  expectation  of  Garth's  voice  from — somewhere. 
Their  own  suite,  perhaps  ?    But  a  woman  was  speaking. 

"Is  it  you,  Mrs.  Sorel  ?"  was  the  question  that  came. 
And  the  heart-beats  were  not  calmed,  for  Marise  recog- 
nised the  contralto  tones  of  Miss  Marks,  the  villainess 
of  her  dream. 

"No,  it's  I,  Miss  Sorel,"  she  answered.  "What's  the 
matter  ?    Aren't  you  coming  as  usual  ?" 

"I  am  sorry,  no,  I  can't  come,"  replied  the  voice 
across  the  wire.  "I  thought  that  now — you're  married, 
Mrs.  Garth,  and  going  away  before  long,  I  should  no 
longer  be  required.    But  in  any  case  I " 

"If  we  hadn't  required  your  services  we  should  have 
told  you,  and  given  you  two  weeks'  salary  in  lieu  of 
notice,"  snapped  Marise  professionally. 


THE  DREAM  197 

"I  hardly  supposed  you  had  time  to  think  about  me, 
everything  was  so  confused  yesterday/'  Zelie  excused 
herself.  "Anyhow,  Mrs.  Garth,  I  must  give  notice 
myself,  for  I've  had  news  which  will  take  me  out  of 
New  York  at  once.  I've  got  to  start  by  the  next  train. 
It  doesn't  matter  about  money.  I  was  paid  up  only  a 
few  days  ago.    We  were  just  starting  fresh " 

"I'm  sure  my  mother  will  wish  to  pay,  and  insist 
upon  doing  so,"  said  Marise.  "When  does  your  train 
go?" 

"I'm  not  certain  to  the  minute,"  hedged  Miss  Marks. 
"But  I  have  to  pack.    I " 

"That  won't  prevent  your  receiving  an  envelope  with 
what  we  owe  you  in  it,"  persisted  Marise.  "I  suppose 
you're  'phoning  from  your  flat?" 

"Yes — no.  Yes.  But  I'll  be  gone  before  a  mes- 
senger could  get  here.    Please  don't  trouble." 

"Very  well,  give  me  your  address  at  the  town  where 
you're  going,"  Marise  said.  "We  can  post  you  on  a 
cheque." 

"I  can't  do  that,  I'm  afraid,"  objected  Miss  Marks. 
"I  shall  be  moving  about  from  place  to  place  for  awhile. 
It's  really  no  use,  Mrs.  Garth,  thank  you — though  of 
course  it's  kind  of  you  to  care.  Please  say  good-bye  to 
Mrs.  Sorel  for  me.    You've  both  been  very  good." 

"I  wish  you'd  sent  us  word  last  night,"  said  Marise, 
whose  eyes  were  bright,  and  whose  hand,  holding  the 
receiver,  had  begun  to  throb  as  if  she  had  a  heart  in  her 
wrist. 

"I  didn't  know  last  night.  The  news  I  spoke  of  came 
this  morning." 

"It  must  have  come  early !" 

"It  did.    Good-bye,  Mrs.  Garth." 

"Wait  just  a  second.    Are  you  going — West  ?" 


198  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Ye-es.    For  awhile." 

" You  can't  tell  me  where  ?" 

"Oh,  several  places.    JSTot  far  from  my  old  home." 

"Did  you  ever  mention  where  that  was  ?" 

But  no  answer  came.  Either  they  had  been  cut  off, 
or  Zelie  Marks  had  impudently  left  the  telephone. 

The  dream  came  back  to  Marise — the  dream  where 
Garth  and  the  stenographer  had  been  whispering  to- 
gether in  a  room  where  Marise  could  not  see  them. 

"I  believe  he's  with  her  now/'  the  girl  thought.  "I 
believe  when  he  went  out  this  morning  he  went  straight 
to  her.  He's  told  her  to  do  something,  and  she  intends 
to  do  it." 

To  that  question,  "Are  you  going  West  ?"  Zelie  had 
hesitatingly  responded,  "Ye-es."    What  did  it  mean  ? 


CHAPTEE  XXIY 

ACCORDING    TO    MUMS 

THAT  same  afternoon,  Mary  Sorel  began  a  letter  to 
Severance,  a  letter  embroidered  with  points  of 
admiration,  dashes,  underlinings,  and  parentheses. 

"Dear  Tony,"  she  wrote,  for  she  felt  the  warm  affec- 
tion of  an  Egeria,  mingled  with  that  of  a  mother-in-law 
elect,  for  him :  and  it  pleased  all  that  was  snobbish  in 
her  soul  to  have  this  intimate  feeling  for  an  earl. 

"Dear  Tony,  I  shall  be  cabling  you  about  the  time 
you  land,  according  to  promise.  But  I  promised  as  well 
to  write  a  sort  of  diary  letter,  giving  you  all  the  develop- 
ments day  by  day,  and  posting  the  document  at  the  end 
of  the  week.  Well,  this  is  the  first  instalment,  written 
— as  you'll  see  by  the  date — on  the  day  of  your  sailing. 

"How  I  wish  I  had  better  news  to  give  you!  But 
don't  be  alarmed.  Things  are  not  going  as  we  hoped, 
yet  they  might  be  worse.  And  now  you  are  prepared  by 
that  preface,  I'll  try  to  tell  you  exactly  the  state  of 
affairs ! 

"At  least,  I  shall  be  able  to  explain  a  mystery  that 
puzzled  and  worried  us  both  yesterday,  after  the — I 
suppose  in  lieu  of  a  better  word  I'm  bound  to  call  it 
'marriage' !  Neither  you  nor  I  could  understand  pre- 
cisely how  That  Man  had  got  my  poor  child  so  under 
his  thumb,  when  by  rights  he  should  have  been  under 
her  foot! 

"What  he  does  is  this:  he  simply  threatens  at  every 

199 


200  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

turn  to  go  away  and  tell  everyone,  including  newspaper 
men,  the  whole  story  from  beginning  to  end.  You 
might  think  with  an  ordinary  person  that  this  was  all 
bluff.  Because,  if  the  story  hurt  you  and  Marise,  and 
even  me,  it  would  hurt  him  as  much.  But  whatever  he 
may  be  (and  he  might  be  almost  anything!)  he  is  not  an 
ordinary  person.  He  appears  perfectly  reckless  of  his 
own  reputation.  Apparently  he  cares  not  enough  to  lift 
his  finger,  or  let  it  fall,  for  the  opinion  of  others,  no 
matter  who.  If  he  said  he  would  do  some  dreadful 
thing  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  hope  he  was  merely  making 
an  idle  threat.    He  would  do  it,  I'm  sure  he  would ! 

"That's  the  secret  of  his  power  over  our  poor  little 
Marise,  and  I  must  admit,  to  a  certain  extent  over  me. 

"I  have  been  having  a  long  talk  with  him  about  the 
future — the  immediate  future,  I  mean,  of  course,  for 
the  more  distant  future  I  hope  and  believe  will  be  con- 
trolled by  you! 

"When  I  reproached  the  man  for  browbeating  my 
daughter,  he  actually  retorted  that  we  had  no  right  to 
try  and  pin  him  to  a  certain  line  of  conduct,  and  not 
pay  him  for  it !  Shameless!  But  that  sample  will  show 
you  what  we  are  going  through.  I  shall  indeed  rejoice 
for  every  reason  when  you  are  restored  to  us.  You  have 
told  me  that  your  cousin  OEnone  has  what  amounts  to  a 
million  of  American  dollars,  all  her  own,  and  that  her 
father  intends  giving  you  another  million  on  your  mar- 
riage to  her;  so  you  will  be  in  a  position  to  complete 
your  bargain  with  this  Fiend.  In  order  to  obtain  the 
money,  he  will  have  to  keep  his  part  of  the  agreement. 

"Yes,  'Fiend'  is  the  word.  Indeed,  I  used  it  aloud 
this  afternoon  in  addressing  him,  so  utterly  did  he 
enrage  me.  He  will  not  allow  Marise  to  go  with  me  to 
Los  Angeles  and  accept  the  loan  of  Bell  Towers,  which 


ACCORDING  TO  MUMS  201 

you  so  kindly  placed  at  our  disposal  till  your  return 
with  your  poor  little  invalid,  CEnone.  He  has  a  house 
of  his  own,  out  West,  it  seems — Arizona  or  somewhere 
wild-sounding.  I  believe  it's  near  the  Grand  Canyon — 
wherever  that  is!  And  heaven  alone  knows  what  it's 
like — the  house,  I  mean,  not  the  Canyon,  which  I  am 
told  is  an  immense  abyss  miles  deep,  full  of  blood-red 
rocks  or  something  terrific. 

"Garth  insists  that  the  unhappy  child  shall  accom- 
pany him  to  this  desolate  spot,  which  is  more  or  less 
on  the  way  to  California.  The  alternative  he  puts 
before  her  is  of  course  the  eternal  (I  nearly  said,  'in- 
fernal'!) one,  of  deserting  his  bride  with  a  blast  of 
trumpets.  Neither  you,  nor  Marise,  nor  I,  can  afford  to 
let  this  happen !  Almost  anything  would  be  preferable 
at  a  crisis  so  delicate  for  you  with  your  uncle. 
Especially  as  Marise  vows  that,  alone  with  her,  the  mon- 
ster is  not  so  formidable.  In  fact,  she  says  she  can 
account  for  his  conduct  at  these  times  only  by  supposing 
that  he  does  not  like  her,  or  is  in  love  with  someone  else. 

"I  wonder,  by  the  way,  do  you  know  at  all  if  he  has 
any  money  ?  My  impression,  when  he  so  easily  accepted 
your  somewhat  original  offer,  was  that  he  had  none. 
But  he  made  Marise  several  handsome  presents  of 
jewellery,  which  must  have  cost  a  great  deal,  if  he  paid 
cash!  Perhaps  he  used  his  V.C.  to  get  them  on  tick — 
if  such  a  thing  is  possible !  Marise  refused,  quite  defi- 
nitely, she  tells  me,  to  take  these  gifts  from  him.  To- 
day, she  chanced  to  ask  Garth  how  he  had  disposed  of 
them  after  her  refusal.  Though  she  put  the  question 
most  tactfully,  even  remarking  that  she  was  sorry  for 
some  little  abruptness  when  returning  the  jewel-cases 
(I  don't  know  details !),  the  man  denied  her  right  to  ask 
what  he  had  done.    Marise  persisted,  however,  in  that 


202  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

sweet  little  determined  way  she  has,  and  Garth  at  length 
flung  out  in  reply  that  he  had  given  the  things  to 
another  person.  Imagine  it!  Marise's  wedding  pres- 
ents! 

"Nothing  more  was  to  be  got  out  of  him,  however. 
Instinct  whispers  to  me  that  the  child  suspects  a  certain 
young  woman  of  having  received  the  jewels.  (Why, 
such  a  thing  is  almost  like  being  a  receiver  of  stolen 
goods,  since  surely  they're  the  property  of  Marise.  Not 
that  she  wants  or  would  look  at  them  again !)  She  did 
not  tell  me  this.  It  is  my  own  heart — the  heart  of  a 
mother — which  speaks.  All  she  said  was,  that  Garth 
wouldn't  mention  the  name  of  the  receiver,  and  resented 
her  ^catechising5  him.  He  put  the  matter  like  this: 
If  she'd  given  him  wedding  presents,  and  he  practically 
trampled  them  under  foot,  with  scorn,  wouldn't  she 
consider  herself  free  to  do  what  she  liked  with  the 
objects?  Wouldn't  she  wish  to  get  rid  of  them  and 
never  see  them  again?  Wouldn't  her  first  thought  be 
to  give  them  away?  And  how  would  she  feel  if  he 
wanted  to  know  what  she'd  done  with  the  things  ? 

"To  the  three  first  questions,  Marise  found  herself 
obliged  to  answer  fYes/  (She  has  an  almost  abnormal 
sense  of  justice  for  a  woman,  you  know!)  To  the 
fourth,  she  replied  in  an  equally  self-sacrificing  way,  so 
in  the  end  the  man  triumphed.  But  it  was  this  business 
of  the  wedding  presents  which  (as  I've  explained  to  you 
now)  he  deliberately  toolc  bach  (we  Americans  call  this 
being  an  'Indian  giver'!)  that  has  made  Marise  think 
he's  in  love  with  someone. 

"I  may  have  guessed  the  person  in  her  mind;  but, 
as  you  will  feel  no  interest  in  that  side  of  the  subject, 
I'll  not  bore  you  by  dwelling  on  it  at  present.  The  in- 
terest for  you  in  Garth's  being  in  love  with  a  woman 


ACCORDING  TO  MUMS  203 

who  is  not  our  Marise  (no  matter  who!)  is  obvious.  If 
the  child  is  right  in  her  conjectures,  she  is  also  right, 
no  doubt,  in  asserting  that  she  need  have  no  fear  the 
man  will  lose  his  head. 

"In  reading  over  what  I  have  just  written,  I  see  that 
I  may  have  given  you  a  wrong  impression.  It  sounds 
as  if  I  had  resigned  myself  to  see  Marise  go  off  to  live 
alone  with  Garth  in  his  house  by  the  abyss.  Which  is 
not  the  case,  of  course.  I  shall  be  with  her.  That  is, 
I  shall  be  most  of  the  time — the  best  bargain  I  can 
drive!  Except  that,  naturally,  Celine  will  always  be 
with  her.  And  if  Garth  is  a  Demon,  Celine  can  be  a 
dragon.  She  has  learned  this  art  from  Me.  She  is 
absolutely  faithful,  and  devoted  to  yov/r  interests.  In 
order  to  make  sure  of  her  services  when  needed  in  any 
possible  emergency,  I  have  more  or  less  confided  in  her, 
which  I  think  was  wise. 

"Now,  before  I  write  further,  I  will  set  your  mind  at 
rest  as  far  as  possible. 

"Garth  has  used  the  power  he  holds  to  the  uttermost, 
and  no  entreaties  on  the  part  of  author  or  manager  have 
moved  him.  Marise  is  to  give  up  the  part  of  Dolores  in 
a  fortnight,  and  Susanne  Neville  begins  rehearsing  to- 
morrow! Poor  Sheridan,  poor  Belloc!  Poor  play! 
Poor  public!  My  daughter  is  immediately  after  to  start 
for  the  West  with  her  'husband' — and  maid!  I 
wished  to  be  of  the  party,  but  Garth  brutally  inquired  if 
'that  sort  of  thing  was  done  in  the  smart  set' — mothers- 
in-law  accompanying  bridal  pairs  on  their  honeymoon  ? 
If  I  wanted  gossip,  there  would  be  a  good  way  to  get  it, 
he  said.  He  is  continually  throwing  gossip  in  our  faces, 
whenever  we  propose  anything  he  doesn't  like ! 

"After  a  most  exhausting  (to  me)  argument,  it  was 
settled  that  I  should  remain  in  New  York  for  a  few  days 


204  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

after  their  departure,  and  that  I  should  then  leave  also, 
going  straight  on  to  Los  Angeles.  There  I  will  open 
beautiful  Bell  Towers,  and  see  that  all  is  ready  for  your 
advent,  with  the  invalid.  Meanwhile  Marise  is  to  visit 
some  sort  of  female  named  Mooney,  an  adopted  mother 
of  Garth.  She  lives  near  a  town  called  Albuquerque, 
which  if  I  don't  forget  is  in  New  Mexico.  You  can 
perhaps  look  it  up  on  the  map.  Garth  appears  to  have 
cause  for  gratitude  to  this  woman,  who  is  an  elderly 
widow.  He  has  spent  some  years  (I  don't  know  how 
many,  and  do  not  care!)  in  that  State  and  the  neigh- 
bouring one  of  Arizona ;  and  I  gather  from  one  or  two 
words  he  let  drop  that  he  gave  Mrs.  Mooney  the  house 
she  now  owns.  In  any  case,  he  said  he  must  pay  her  a 
visit,  not  having  seen  her  since  the  time  when  he  joined 
the  British  forces  at  the  beginning  of  the  war.  And  if 
he  went,  his  wife  would  have  to  go  with  him ! 

"The  man  evidently  expected  that  Marise  would 
object;  but  in  the  circumstances  the  idea  seemed  quite 
a  good  one !  You  see  why,  of  course,  dear  Tony  %  This 
old  woman  will  be  an  extra  chaperon  for  our  girl,  whose 
wild  impulsiveness  has  brought  so  much  worry  and 
trouble  to  us  all.  Garth  cannot  make  scenes  before  his 
foster-mother,  for  the  very  shame  of  it ! 

"After  a  short  visit  there,  he  will  take  Marise  and 
Celine  to  his  own  place :  and  you  may  be  sure  I  shall  not 
be  long  in  joining  my  child,  to  give  her  my  protection! 

"Do,  my  dear  son-to-be,  hurry  on  your  marriage. 
You  must  cable  me  the  moment  you  get  this,  when  you 
are  likely  to  arrive,  addressing  me  here,  where  I  shall 
still  be  at  that  time.  All  our  difficulties  will  end  when 
you  are  able  to  hand  Garth  the  million  dollars.  (I 
quite  understand  it  would  be  imprudent  to  send  a 
cheque  or  a  letter  to  him.    Who  knows  what  desperate 


ACCORDING  TO  MUMS  205 

thing  he  might  do  when  he  had  got  the  money?)  The 
one  safe  thing  will  be  a  conversation,  and  the  money 
in  bonds.  Then,  as  you  suggested,  you  can  dictate  a 
document  for  Garth  to  sign,  compromising  to  him  but 
not  to  you.  You  can  also  dictate  terms — as  you  would 
have  done  from  the  first,  if  Marise  had  not  tried  to 
punish  you — by  punishing  herself!  But  oh,  let  it  be 
soon — soon !  The  strain  is  telling  upon  my  nerves — and 
no  doubt  the  nerves  of  Marise,  though  she  is  singularly 
reserved  with  me,  I  regret  to  say — one  would  almost 
think  sulky,  poor  child ! 

"I  can't  express  the  pain  it  gives  me  to  upset  you 
with  all  these  anxieties.  But  I  dared  not  keep  silence, 
lest  you  should  learn  of  this  journey  West,  and  so  on, 
through  some  garbled  story  in  the  newspapers.  You 
might  then  think  the  worst;  whereas  now,  you  are  in 
the  secret  of  your  dear  girl's  safety.  No  harm  will  come 
to  her :  and  thank  goodness  there  will  be  no  tittle-tattle 
to  rouse  Mr.  Ionides's  suspicions ! 

"I  presume  you  will  marry  your  cousin  by  special 
licence,  so  as  to  hurry  things  on ;  and  I  comfort  myself 
by  thinking  that  before  many  days  all  will  be  en  train. 
Perhaps  in  a  fortnight  after  you  reach  England  you  will 
be  arranging  to  leave  again  for  the  benefit  of  the  in- 
valid's health.  California  is  the  most  wonderful  place 
in  the  world  for  a  cure.  But,  of  course,  the  poor  CEnone 
is  incurable,  and  is  not  likely  to  be  with  you  on  this 
earth  for  more  than  a  year  or  two  at  worst — I  mean,  at 
most. 

"When  you  have  settled  with  Garth,  he  will  have  no 
further  excuse  to  assert  himself.  I  shall  find  a  house 
near  Bell  Towers,  and  Marise  will  come  to  me.  The 
time  of  waiting  for  happiness  will  pass  in  the  consola- 
tion of  warm  platonic  friendship  and  lovely  surround- 


206  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

ings.    An  excuse  can  be  found  for  Marise's  divorce;  and 
Garth  will  pass  out  of  our  lives  for  ever ! 

"Now  I  have  explained  everything  as  well  as  I  can, 
and  I  shall  add  items  of  interest  each  day  until  time 
comes  for  posting  my  letter.  An  revoir,  dear  Tony! 
Yours,  M.  S. — the  initials  you  love!" 


CHAPTEK  XXV 

"SOME  DAY SOME  WAY SOMEHOW  !" 

FF  Zelie  Marks  liad  been  a  malicious  girl  she  could, 
*  with  a  few  words  through  the  telephone  or  on  paper, 
have  spoiled  at  a  stroke  such  few  chances  of  happiness 
as  remained  to  Garth. 

The  man  was  completely,  almost  ludicrously  in  her 
power ;  and  Zelie  didn't  flatter  herself  that  what  he  had 
done  was  done  entirely  because  of  trust  in  her.  He  did 
trust  her,  of  course.  But  as  the  girl  set  forth  to  carry 
out  his  wishes,  she  realised  that  he  had  turned  to  her  as 
much  through  a  man's  blindness  as  through  perfect  faith 
in  her  unfailing  friendship. 

Friendship !  She  laughed  a  little  at  the  word,  travel- 
ling westward  in  the  luxurious  stateroom  for  which 
Garth  had  paid.  What  a  dear  fool  he  was!  But  all 
men  were  like  that.  When  they  fell  head  over  heels  in 
love  with  one  woman,  they  never  bothered  to  analyse 
the  feelings  of  any  other  female  thing  on  earth ! 

Yes,  that  was  about  all  she  was  in  his  eyes — a  female 
thing !  He  had  been  in  desperate  need  of  help,  and  she 
happened  to  be  the  one  creature  who  could  give  the 
kind  he  wanted. 

Some  girls  would  have  refused,  she  thought.  Others 
would  have  accepted,  and  then — behaved  like  cats. 
Even  she  had  longed  to  behave  like  a  cat  when  she 
talked  to  his  "wife"  through  the  telephone.  "If  Marise 
Sorel  dreamed  of  what  he's  asked  me  to  do,  not  one  of 
the  things  he  hopes  for  could  ever  by  any  possibility 

207 


208  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

come  to  pass,"  Zelie  reminded  herself,  as  she  gazed 
without  seeing  it  at  the  flying  landscape.  "Not  that 
they  ever  will  come  to  pass  anyhow.  But  it  shan't  he 
my  fault  that  he's  disappointed." 

Miss  Marks  honestly  believed  that  she  was  unselfish 
in  her  service;  yet  something  far  down  in  the  depths  of 
her  prayed  to  gain  a  reward  for  it  in  the  far,  far  future. 

The  one  thing  which  seemed  certain  about  this  wild 
marriage  was,  that  it  wouldn't  last.  Sooner  or  later — 
probably  sooner ! — there'd  be  a  divorce.  Then,  maybe, 
Jack  Garth  would  remember  what  his  pal  Zelie  Marks 
had  done  for  him.  He'd  turn  to  her  for  comfort  as  now 
he  turned  for  help.  Love — real  love — was  sometimes 
born  in  such  ways:  and  Zelie  didn't  for  an  instant  let 
herself  think  that  Garth's  love  for  Marise  Sorel  was 
real.  It  was  infatuation,  and  was  bound  to  pass  when 
he  found  out  what  a  vain,  self-centred  girl  his  idol  was ; 
whereas  Zelie  Marks  had  been  loyally  his  chum  for 
years. 

Zelie  had  loved  Garth  long  before  the  war,  when  she 
knew  him  in  Albuquerque.  She  was  learning  stenog- 
raphy then,  after  her  father  died,  and  when  there  was 
no  one  for  her  to  live  with  except  an  aunt.  The  aunt 
was  quite  a  good  aunt,  and  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Mooney — 
Jack's  "Mothereen" ;  but  Zelie  had  wanted  to  be  inde- 
pendent. Jack  and  Mothereen  had  been  kind  to  the 
girl;  and  when  Jack  began  building  a  house  near  his 
beloved  Grand  Canyon,  for  a  little  while  Zelie  had 
tremblingly  prayed  that  it  was  meant  for  her  to  live  in. 
Later,  she  had  begun  to  lose  hope,  but  not  wholly.  And 
then  the  war  had  broken  out  in  Europe.  Almost  at  once 
Garth  had  dashed  over  to  England  and  offered  his 
services,  on  the  plea  that  his  father,  a  Yorkshire  man, 
had  never  been  naturalised  as  an  American. 


"SOME  DAY— SOME  WAY— SOMEHOW !"    209 

Zelie  couldn't  rest  in  Albuquerque  after  that.  She 
went  east,  and  would  quietly  have  slipped  away  after 
Garth  to  Europe  as  a  Red  Cross  nurse  if  she  hadn't  been 
afraid  he  would  suspect  why  she  followed.  Instead,  she 
stopped  in  New  York,  and  got  work  as  a  stenographer 
with  a  firm  of  engineers,  thanks  to  an  introduction  from 
Jack.  When  America  flung  herself  into  the  war- 
furnace  too,  Zelie  Marks  did  train  as  a  nurse:  but  in 
little  more  than  a  year  came  the  Armistice,  and  the  girl 
reluctantly  took  up  her  old  profession  again. 

Now,  she  loved  Major  Garth,  V.C.,  a  hundred  times 
more  than  she  had  loved  Jack  Garth,  the  smart  young 
inventor.  Yet  here  she  was  on  the  way  to  Arizona, 
where  she  had  promised  to  go  and  get  his  house  (that 
house  she  had  once  thought  might  be  hers!)  ready  to 
receive  another  woman! 

When  he  had  come  to  her  flat  early  in  the  morning 
and  told  her  what  he  wanted  done  to  "surprise  Marise," 
she  had  made  him  some  hot  coffee,  and  agreed  to  every- 
thing. 

"Yes,  Jack,"  she  said,  "I'll  do  it,  and  your  wife  shall 
never  know,  unless  you  tell  her  yourself.  And  I  advise 
you  not  to  do  that,  because  if  you  drop  the  least  hint, 
she'll  hate  the  house  and  me,  and  be  angry  with  you. 
Any  girl  would!  I'm  not  blaming  her.  She  shall  think 
that  your  house  was  just  waiting,  in  apple-pie  order,  her 
room  and  all:  or  else — yes,  that  would  be  best! — she 
shall  think  Mothereen  did  the  whole  business.  Of 
course,  that's  what  you'd  want  Mothereen  to  do,  and 
what  she'd  want  to  do,  if  she  were  strong  enough  for 
the  task.  But  as  it  is,  she  shall  work  just  enough,  so 
that  she  won't  have  to  fib — no  hard  work  to  tire  her 
out.  She'll  love  to  go  to  the  Canyon  with  me — the  dear 
Mothereen ! — and  she'll  have  the  time  of  her  life.'' 


210  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

So  that  was  Zelie  Marks'  secret  errand.  She  was  to 
travel  straight  through  to  Kansas  City,  by  the  Santa  Fe 
"Limited."  There  she  was  to  pause  in  her  journey  and 
purchase  a  list  of  things  which  had  never  been  supplied 
for  Garth's  new  house,  finished  only  a  short  time  before 
the  war:  beautiful  silver,  crystal  and  fine  linen,  and 
the  decorations  for  a  room  worthy  of  a  bride  like  Marise. 
Kansas  City  was  a  big  enough  town  to  provide  these 
things,  Garth  thought ;  and  as  it  was  many  hours  nearer 
the  Grand  Canyon  than  was  Chicago,  Zelie's  purchases 
would  reach  their  destination  sooner  than  if  she  shopped 
there. 

Garth  had  to  leave  much  to  Zelie's  taste,  but  his 
advice,  "Try  to  think  what  she  would  like,"  had  hurt. 
Zelie  was  to  have  all  the  trouble  and  pain,  yet  must 
strive  to  please  Marise  Sorel,  not  herself.  And  poor  old 
Zelie  was  never  to  get  any  credit  for  the  sacrifice ! 

Of  course,  she  had  got  something.  She  had  got 
Jack's  thanks  in  advance.  He  had  said,  "You're  a 
brick,  Zelie !  The  finest  girl  there  is.  I  shall  never  for- 
get what  you're  doing  for  me."  And  she  had  got  the 
most  marvellous  jewels  she'd  ever  seen  except  at  the 
opera  or  at  Tiffany's.  But  she  didn't  count  them  as  pos- 
sessions. She  knew  they  had  been  refused  by  Marise 
(Jack  put  it  casually,  "Stuff  didn't  make  a  hit  there. 
I  hope  it  will  with  you!"),  and  Zelie  had  no  intention 
of  keeping  Mrs.  Garth's  cast-off  finery.  Just  what  she 
would  eventually  do  with  what  Jack  called  the  "stuff," 
she  hadn't  made  up  her  mind :  but  the  girl  felt  confident 
of  an  inspiration. 

She  had  also  got  money  for  the  trip  West,  and  back, 
with  travel  de  luxe.  She  didn't  mind  accepting  that,  as 
she  was  doing  an  immense  favour  for  Jack,  which  no- 
body else  could  or  would  do.    And  she  didn't  mind  his 


"SOME  DAY— SOME  WAY— SOMEHOW !"     211 

paying  an  "understudy"  to  look  after  her  work  at  the 
Belmore  till  she  should  return.  But  she  had  refused 
nearly  half  the  money  which  Jack  had  pressed  upon 
her.  She  simply  "wouldn't  have  it!"  she'd  insisted. 
He  had  been  forced  to  yield,  or  vex  her:  but  he  had 
probably  said  within  himself,  "Anyhow,  she's  got  the 
jewels!" 

How  little  he  knew  her,  if  he  could  think  that !  .  .  . 
And  so,  after  all,  the  thanks  were  the  biggest  part  of 
her  reward. 

Tears  smarted  under  Zelie's  eyelids  now  and  then,  as 
she  thought  of  these  things  while  the  train  whirled  her 
westward :  how  loyal  she  was  to  her  pal,  and  was  going 
to  be  in  spite  of  every  temptation;  how  little  Marise 
deserved  the  worship  lavished  upon  her ;  and  how  much 
more  good  it  would  do  Jack  to  give  his  love  in  another 
quarter ! 

"All  the  same,  I'll  do  my  very,  very  best,"  the  girl 
repeated.  "I  won't  tell  Mothereen  a  single  one  of  the 
horrid  things  I  think  about  the  bride.  I'll  paint  her  in 
glowing  colours.  I'll  try  and  make  the  house  a  dream 
of  beauty,  no  matter  how  hard  I  work.  I'll  warn 
Mothereen  not  to  mention  my  name,  though  I'd  love 
to  have  her  blurt  it  out !  But  some  day — and  some  way 
— I'll  somehow  get  even  with  Marise  Sorel  for  all  she's 
made  me  suffer.    And  made  Jack  suffer !" 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE  END  OF  THE  JOURNEY 


TV/T AEISE  knew  as  little  as  possible  of  her  own  coun- 
*T*  try.  Her  early  memories  wavered  between  New 
York  when  things  went  well,  and  Brooklyn  or  even 
Jersey  City  when  the  family  luck  was  out.  Her  first 
experiences  on  the  stage  had  given  her  small  parts  in 
New  York.  Mums  had  refused  fairly  good  chances  for 
the  pretty  girl,  rather  than  let  her  go  "on  the  road." 
Then  had  come  the  great  and  bewildering  success  as 
"Dolores,"  which  had  kept  the  young  star  playing  at 
one  theatre  until  mother  and  daughter  transplanted 
themselves  to  England.  This  "wedding  trip"  with 
Garth  was  the  first  long  journey  that  Marise  had  ever 
made  in  her  native  land. 

It  was  the  most  extraordinary  thing  which  had  ever 
happened,  to  be  travelling  with  Garth — except  being 
married  to  him !  And,  after  the  first  twenty-four  hours 
of  "Mrs.  John  Garthhood,"  she  had  not  felt  "married" 
at  all,  during  the  fortnight  which  followed  the  wedding. 

For  one  thing,  she  had  been  desperately  busy  prepar- 
ing to  leave  the  stage  "for  good."  There  were  so  many 
people  to  see!  And  the  person  of  whom  she  had  seen 
least  was  her  husband.  He,  too,  appeared  to  be  busy 
about  his  own  affairs,  and  Marise  was  rather  surprised 
to  discover  how  many  men  (his  acquaintances  were 
nearly  all  men,  and  men  of  importance)  he  knew  in 
New  York. 

212 


THE  END  OF  THE  JOURNEY  21$ 

Every  night  he  took  her  to  the  theatre,  and  returned 
to  escort  her  home  in  the  car  he  had  so  extravagantly 
hired.  That  was  in  the  role  of  adoring  bridegroom 
which  he  had  engaged  himself  to  play !  But  apart  from 
luncheons  and  dinners  eaten  with  wife  and  mother-in- 
law  on  show  in  public  places,  these  were  the  only  occa- 
sions when  they  met  and  talked  together.  At  night, 
though  Marise  still  stuck  to  the  bargain  and  occupied 
her  room  in  the  "bridal  suite/'  she  never  knew  when 
Garth  entered  his  quarters  next  door,  or  when  he  went 
out.  But  now,  here  they  were  in  a  train,  destined  to 
be  close  companions  for  days  on  end. 

The  girl's  restless  fear  of  the  unknown  in  Garth's 
nature,  which  had  almost  gone  to  sleep  in  New  York, 
waked  up  again.  Yet  somehow  it  wasn't  as  disagreeable 
as  it  ought  to  have  been — and  indeed,  she  had  rather 
missed  it!  There  was  a  stifled  excitement  in  going 
away  with  him  which  interested  her  intensely ;  and  she 
was  interested  in  the  journey  itself. 

Garth  had  made  everything  very  easy  and  comfort* 
able  for  his  wife,  so  far  as  outward  arrangements  went. 
She  had  a  stateroom  (it  happened  by  chance  to  be  the 
same  in  which  Miss  Marks  had  travelled  a  fortnight  ago, 
but  Zelie's  vows  of  "getting  even"  did  not  haunt  the 
place),  and  close  by,  Celine  had  a  whole  "section"  to 
herself.  Garth  lurked  in  the  distance,  just  where, 
Marise  didn't  know.  He  must,  of  course,  take  his 
bride  to  meals,  and  sit  chatting  with  her  for  some  hours 
each  day  in  her  stateroom,  lest  people  who  knew  their 
faces  should  wonder  and  whisper  about  the  strange 
honeymoon  couple.  But  so  far  as  Marise  could  tell,  he 
seemed  inclined  to  keep  his  word  with  her. 

What  would  Mums — who  had  sobbed  at  parting — 
think  if  she  knew  that  her  martyred  Marise  was  quit© 


2U  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

happy  and  chirpy  ?  Yet  so  it  was !  The  girl  was  keenly 
conscious  of  Garth's  presence,  but  she  couldn't  help 
being  as  pleased  as  a  child  with  the  neat  arrangement 
of  her  stateroom ;  with  the  coffee-coloured  porter  whose 
grin  glittered  like  a  diamond  tiara  set  in  the  wrong 
place ;  with  the  cream-tinted  maid  who  brought  a  large 
paper  bag  for  her  toque,  and  said,  "My!  ain't  your 
hat  just  sweet?"  and  with  the  wee  wooden  houses  they 
passed  so  close  she  could  almost  have  snatched  flower- 
pots from  their  window-sills,  as  "Alice"  snatched  mar- 
malade, falling  down  to  Wonderland  through  the  Rabbit 
Hole.  That  was  just  at  the  start,  for  soon  the  train 
was  flashing  through  fair  green  country  with  little 
rivers,  and  trees  like  English  trees. 

Marise  laughed  aloud  at  the  huge  advertisements 
which  disfigured  the  landscape;  unpleasant-looking, 
giant  men  cut  out  of  wood ;  Brobdingnag  boys  munch- 
ing cakes ;  profile  cows  the  size  of  elephants,  and  bottles 
tall  as  steeples.  Then  suddenly  she  checked  herself. 
It  was  the  first  time  she  had  laughed  with  Garth !  He, 
too,  was  smiling.  Their  eyes  met.  The  man  seemed 
very  human  for  that  moment ;  young,  too,  and  in  spite 
of  his  bigness,  boyish.  What  would  she  have  thought 
of  him,  she  wondered,  if  they  had  met  in  an  ordinary 
way? 

The  train  stopped  at  very  few  places.  Indeed,  when 
in  motion  it  had  an  air  of  stopping  at  nothing !  It  was 
fun  going  to  the  restaurant  car.  Men  stared  at  Marise, 
and  she  saw  that  some  of  the  women  stared  at  Garth. 
Did  they  admire  him  ?  Would  she  have  admired  him  if 
she'd  seen  him  for  the  first  time  as  well-dressed  as  he 
was  now,  wearing  a  smart  Guards'  tie,  and  if  she  had 
never  learned  to  think  of  him  as  a  Devil  and  a  Brute  ? 

Certainly  his  hair  was  nice.     It  grew  well  on  his 


THE  END  OF  THE  JOURNEY  215 

forehead,  and  brushed  straight  back  it  would  have  had 
the  effect  of  a  bronze  helmet  if  there  hadn't  been  a  slight 
ripple  to  break  the  smoothness. 

"Monsieur  Garth  has  received  a  telegram  in  the 
train/'  said  Celine  that  night  as  she  helped  "Madame" 
to  undress.  "He  has  no  stateroom  himself.  I  suppose 
he  could  not  get  one.  He  is  in  a  'section/  no  better 
than  mine.  He  is  sitting  there  now  reading  the  tele- 
gram. I  think  he  has  read  it  several  times.  Perhaps  it 
is  from  Madame  his  mother,  whom  we  go  to  visit." 

"Perhaps,"  echoed  Marise.  But  somehow  she  felt 
sure  it  wasn't.  It  wasn't  about  business,  either! 
Strange  that  you  could  get  telegrams  in  trains.  He 
must  have  told  the  person  to  wire ;  and  the  person  was 
a  woman — Zelie  Marks,  most  likely.  All  Marise's  re- 
sentment against  Garth  came  back,  as  her  mother  would 
have  wished  for  Severance's  sake. 

At  Chicago,  where  they  arrived  next  morning,  they 
had  to  stop  all  day  until  the  Santa  Fe  Limited  left  at 
night.  Garth  took  his  wife  to  "see  the  sights."  He  was 
quite  agreeable,  in  an  impersonal  way,  and  so  was  she ; 
but  they  did  not  laugh  together  again.  They  talked  only 
of  the  moment,  never  planned  ahead;  yet  Marise's 
thoughts  kept  flying  on  to  the  end  of  the  journey,  and 
what  life  would  be  like  then. 

The  morning  after  brought  them  to  Kansas  City, 
where  Zelie,  bound  on  her  secret  mission,  had  got  off  to 
buy  beautiful  things  for  the  far-away  house.  But  Major 
and  Mrs.  John  Garth  did  not  get  off.  They  went  on 
and  on,  till  the  flat  country  of  waving  grass  turned  to 
red  desert  dotted  darkly  with  pines,  and  having  here 
and  there  a  mysterious  mound  like  an  ancient  tumulus. 
Instead  of  homely  villages  there  were  groups  of  adobe 
houses,  such  as  Marise  vaguely  pictured  in  Africa.    Out 


216  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

of  the  hard  scarlet  earth  pushed  grey  rocks  like  jagged 
teeth  of  giant,  buried  skulls;  and  at  last  it  seemed  that 
the  train  was  rushing  straight  to  the  setting  sun  where 
it  would  be  engulfed  in  fire. 

Now  and  then  when  the  girl  glanced  at  Garth,  who 
was  absorbed  in  the  wistful  ecstasy  of  homecoming,  it 
occurred  to  her  that  he  had  changed.  His  eyes  were 
more  tawny  than  ever  they  had  been.  Perhaps  it  was 
the  red  reflection  shining  up  into  them!  Now  she 
understood  better  than  before  why  they  had  looked  like 
the  eyes  of  a  lion  that  sees  his  lost  and  distant  desert. 
This  was  Garth's  desert — his,  and  he  loved  it !  A  queer 
little  thrill  of  involuntary  sympathy  ran  through  her. 
She  felt  that  it  might  be  in  her  also  to  love  this  wild 
rose-red  and  golden  land,  with  its  dark,  stunted  trees, 
and  the  draped  Indian  figures  silhouetted  on  slim  ponies 
against  a  crystal  sky.  It  appealed  to  something  in  her 
soul  that  had  never  yet  found  what  it  wanted.  It  made 
her  feel  that  she  was  very  little  in  her  outlook,  her 
aspirations,  but  that  she  might  some  day  grow  to  a 
stature  worth  while. 

It  was  morning — late  morning — when  they  reached 
Albuquerque,  once  settled  and  named  by  Spanish 
explorers.  As  the  train  drew  into  the  station  Marise 
glanced  out  with  veiled  eagerness.  Yes,  she  was  eager, 
but  she  didn't  want  Garth  to  know  that.  It  would 
please  him  too  much — more  than  it  was  safe  to  please 
him,  maybe! 

There  was  a  surprisingly  delightful  hotel  built  in  old 
Spanish  style,  which  seemed  to  be  part  of  the  station 
itself:  and  on  the  platform  were  knots  of  Indians  so 
picturesque  that  the  girl  nearly  cried  out  in  sheer 
pleasure. 

Garth  had  come  into  the  stateroom  to  help  gather  up 


THE  END  OF  THE  JOURNEY  217 

her  things.  She  had  been  wondering  for  some  moments 
at  the  strained  frown  between  his  eyebrows  when  he 
should  have  been  smiling  with  joy.    Suddenly  he  spoke. 

"Marise"  (he  always  called  her  Marise,  and  she  had 
ceased  to  resent  it),  "there's  something  I  want  to  ask 
you  to  do.  I  kept  putting  it  off,  but  now  the  last 
minute  has  come.  You  know  I  think  a  lot  of  Mrs. 
Mooney,  my  adopted  mother,  don't  you?" 

"You've  told  me  so.  And  it  goes  without  saying, 
as  you  had  an  idee  fixe  that  you  must  make  her  this  visit 
at  any  cost,"  Marise  replied. 

"At  any  cost — that's  just  it,"  he  repeated.  "Well, 
she's  as  old-fashioned  as  you're  new-fashioned.  She 
couldn't  understand  a  motive  for  marriage  except  love 
— she'd  hardly  believe  there  was  any  other!  I  don't 
want  to  shock  or  worry  her  if  I  can  avoid  it.  Will  you 
please  help  me  out  in  keeping  her  as  happy  about — us, 
as  you  reasonably  can  ?" 

"Of  course  I  don't  want  to  hurt  her,"  said  Marise. 
"I  hate  hurting  people — as  a  general  rule,  though  you 
mayn't  believe  it.  What  do  you  want  me  to  do — some- 
thing special?" 

"Yes.  Could  you  bring  yourself  to  call  me  'Jack' 
before  her?  She'd  notice  if  you  always  called  me 
'You,'  as  you  do — as  you  have  since  I  pointed  out  that 
'Major  Garth'  didn't  fit  the  situation." 

"Certainly.  That's  easy  enough !"  Marise  reassured 
him.  "I'm  not  an  actress  for  nothing.  Many  a  man 
whom  I  wouldn't  dream  of  calling  by  his  Christian 
name  off  the  stage  has  had  to  be  'dearest'  and  'darling* 
on!" 

Garth  flushed  darkly,  she  could  not  quite  guess  why. 
"Thank  you,"  he  said.  "We'll  consider  ourselves  in 
the  theatre,  then,  when  we're  at  Mothereen's,  playing — 


218  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

don't  you  say? — 'opposite'  parts.  I'll  try  and  make 
yours  not  too  hard.  I  don't  know  whether  she'll  have 
come  to  the  depot  to  meet  us  or  not,  but — hurrah,  there 
she  is!" 

His  voice  rang  out  as  Marise  had  never  yet  heard  it 
ring.  Yes,  she  had  once — just  for  an  instant — that 
first  Sunday  when  he  said,  "I  would  sell  my  soul  for 
you !" — or  some  foolish  words  of  the  kind. 

Since  then,  she  had  forgotten  those  tones,  and  thought 
his  voice  hard;  but  now  its  warmth  and  mellowness 
brought  back  a, memory. 

The  train  was  stopping.  In  front  of  a  wonderful 
window  full  of  Indian  curios  stood  a  little  woman  look- 
ing up  and  waving  a  handkerchief.  She  was  dressed  in 
black,  with  the  oldest-fashioned  sort  of  widow's  bonnet. 
And  if  you'd  seen  her  on  top  of  the  North  Pole,  you 
would  have  known  she  was  Irish. 

Garth  flung  a  window  up,  and  shouted,  "Mothereen!" 


CHAPTEE  XXVII 

SECOND   FIDDLE 

THE  next  thing  that  Marise  knew,  she  was  on  the 
platform,  being  hugged  and  kissed  by  the  little" 
woman  in  black,  admired  by  a  pair  of  big,  wide-apart 
blue  eyes  under  black  hair  turning  grey,  smiled  at  by  a 
kind,  sweet  mouth  whose  short  upper  lip  showed  teeth 
white  as  a  girl's. 

Not  even  Mums  had  ever  hugged  or  kissed  Marise 
like  that!  There  had  always  been  just  a  perceptible 
holding  at  a  distance  lest  hair  or  laces  should  be 
rumpled.  But  there  was  no  dread  of  rumpling  here! 
Marise  knew  that  Mrs.  Mooney  wouldn't  have  cared  if 
her  hair  had  come  down  or  her  funny  old  bonnet  had 
been  squashed  flat.  There  was  something  oddly  de- 
licious, almost  pathetic — oh,  but  very  pathetic  as  thing3 
really  were  between  her  and  Garth ! — in  being  taken  to 
that  full,  motherly  bosom  where  the  heart  within  beat 
like  the  wings  of  a  glad  bird.  Suddenly — perhaps  be- 
cause she  was  tired  and  a  little  nervous  after  her  im- 
mense journey — Marise  wanted  to  cry  in  the  nice 
woman's  neck,  which  smelt  good,  like  some  sort  of 
warm,  fresh  fruit.  But  she  didn't  cry.  She  smiled,  and 
behaved  herself  well,  as  Mrs.  Mooney  turned  her  affec- 
tionate attentions  to  "Johnny." 

"Sure,  boy,"  she  said,  when  Garth  had  come  in  for  a 
full  share  of  caresses,  "your  bride's  beautiful.     You 

didn't  tell  me  half,  and  neither  did " 

219 


220  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

But  Mothereen  broke  off  short,  and  squeezed  the 
gloved  hands  of  Marise,  shaking  them  up  and  down  to 
cover  an  instant's  confusion.  She  had  been  solemnly 
warned  by  Zelie  that  the  name  of  Marks  was  taboo,  and 
now  she  had  nearly  let  it  out ! 

"There's  an  automobile  waiting,"  she  hurried  on. 
"Not  that  I've  got  one,  or  the  likes  of  one,  meself,  but 
ye're  from  N'York,  me  dear,  and  I  felt  it  would  be  the 
right  thing  to  have." 

"So  it  is,  Mothereen,"  said  Garth.  "Now  I'll  just  get 
the  'shuwer'  to  help  me  with  our  bags  and  things " 

"Not  yet,  boy,  please,"  she  begged  excitedly. 
"There's  a  lot  of  folks  waitin'  for  the  good  word  with 
ye,  the  minute  we've  had  our  meetin'  over.  I  couldn't 
keep  'em  from  comin',  Johnny,  honest  I  couldn't,  try  as 
I  might.  I  believe  if  we  had  a  carriage  instead  of  an 
auto  to  drive  home  in,  they'd  take  out  the  horses  and 
draw  ye  along  themselves,  singin'  'Hail  the  Conquerin' 
Hero'!" 

As  if  her  words  were  a  signal,  a  crowd  of  men  and 
women,  mostly  young,  burst  out  from  the  hotel,  or  from 
the  Indian  museum  with  its  window  display  of  brilliant 
rugs,  totems,  turquoises,  black  opals,  and  chased  silver. 
"Hurrah  for  our  Jack!  Hurrah  for  our  V.C. !"  they 
yelled. 

Marise  was  taken  aback  and  hardly  knew  what  to  do. 
It  was  so  odd  to  hear  roars  of  applause  which  were  not 
for  her! 

It  wasn't  that  she  wanted  the  roars,  or  envied  the 
embarrassed  recipient  of  the  unexpected  honours;  but 
it  was  strange  to  stand  there — she,  the  famous  and 
beautiful  Marise  Sorel — with  no  one  looking  at  or 
thinking  anything  about  her  at  all. 

Garth  was  a  V.C.,  of  course,  and  worthy  of  praise 


SECOND  FIDDLE  221 

for  brave  deeds  he  must  have  done  (she'd  never  heard 
what  they  were,  or  thought  very  much  about  them !),  yet 
it  did  seem  funny,  just  for  the  first  surprised  moment, 
that  these  creatures  should  be  so  wild  over  him  without 
caring  an  atom  for  her ! 

"Oh,  darlint,  and  ain't  we  two  women  proud  of  him  I" 
gasped  Mothereen,  squeezing  the  girl's  arm  convul- 
sively. 

Marise  glanced  down  at  the  plump,  black-clad  form 
quivering  with  emotion  at  the  sight  of  Garth  being 
shaken  hands  with  and  pounded  on  the  back.  "Yes, 
we  are,"  she  echoed  kindly,  for  she  would  not  have 
pained  the  dear  woman  for  anything  on  earth. 

"I  shall  have  my  work  cut  out  for  me,  while  I'm  in 
her  house,  if  she  expects  me  to  be  chorus  for  her  adopted 
son,"  the  transported  favourite  told  herself.  "But  she 
is  a  darling,  and  I'll  do  my  best  for  the  few  days  I'm 
here,  at — well,  at  almost  any  price." 

When  Garth's  old  friends  had  thrown  themselves 
upon  him  like  a  tidal  wave,  the  reflex  action  came,  and 
they  were  willing  to  meet  and  be  nice  to  his  wife.  Male 
and  female,  they  saw  that  she  was  tremendously  pretty 
and  smart.  Many  knew  who  she  was,  and  had  heard  of 
her  success,  even  though  they  had  never  seen  her  on 
the  stage.  But  what  was  a  star  of  the  theatre,  compared 
with  a  hero  of  the  war?  Garth  was  It.  Marise  was 
only  It's  second  fiddle. 

"Isn't  he  great? — fine? — wonderful?"  were  the 
adjectives  flung  at  her  head  by  gushing  girls.  "I  sup- 
pose he  lets  you  wear  his  V.C.  ?"  a  man  pleasantly 
condescended.  Everyone  was  sure,  as  Mothereen  had 
been  sure,  that  she  must  be  "very  proud"  of  the  splendid 
husband  she'd  been  lucky  enough  to  catch. 

Marise  smiled  as  she  pictured  what  Mums'  expression. 


222  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

would  have  been  among  these  adorers  of  the  Fiend,  the 
Brute,  beings  from  another  world,  for  whom  the  cele- 
brated Miss  Sorel  was  nobody.  Keally,  the  scene  on 
this  platform  was  like  a  village  green  in  a  comic  opera, 
with  all  the  minor  characters  dancing  round  the  tenor ! 

At  last  Garth — happy  yet  ill  at  ease  and  half  ashamed 
— contrived  to  rescue  his  mother  and  wife.  They  got 
to  the  motor-car  waiting  outside  the  station;  but  there 
they  collided  with  a  new  procession,  belated  yet  enthusi- 
astic. It  was,  "Garth  forever!"  again:  more  shouts  of 
joy,  more  slaps,  more  introductions  to  the  harmless, 
necessary  bride. 

Even  when  the  three  had  ambushed  themselves  in  the 
car,  boys  hung  on  behind,  singing,  "For  he's  a  jolly 
good  fellow !"  and  girls  threw  flowers  in  at  the  windows. 

"This  is  the  happiest  hour  of  my  life  since  I  first  met 
up  with  ye,  Johnny  dear,"  choked  Mothereen,  wiping 
her  smiling  eyes.  "And  I'm  sure  it's  the  same  for  you, 
isn't  it,  my  child  ?" 

"Oh  yes — ye^es !"  responded  Marise. 

Garth  laughed. 

The  town  of  Albuquerque  was  very  Spanish-looking. 
Indeed,  it  would  have  been  strange  if  it  were  not  so, 
since  the  Spanish  had  built  much  of  it  in  the  Great 
Days  of  their  prime,  hundreds  of  years  ago.  It  was  on 
the  outskirts  of  the  place  that  Mrs.  Mooney  lived,  in  a 
house — as  she  explained  to  Marise — "architected  for 
her  by  Johnny  himself." 

"He  and  I  lived  here  together  after  he  brought  me 
back  to  me  dearly-loved  west,  from  N'York,"  she  went 
on ;  "as  happy  as  turtle-doves  till  the  war  broke  on  us. 
That  house  at  the  Canyon  where  he's  takin'  you — the 
later  the  better,  because  I  want  to  keep  ye  here  as  long 
as  I  can ! — was  never  for  me.    He  thought  he'd  like  to 


SECOND  FIDDLE  223 

go  and  brood  over  his  work  in  it,  all  alone,  once  or  twice 
a  year.  He  felt  as  if  that  Grand  Canyon  would  be  a 
kind  of  inspiration.  I  doubt  if  it  ever  popped  into  his 
head  in  those  times  that  he'd  be  takin'  a  pretty  young 
wife  like  a  princess  from  a  fairy  tale  there  some  day. 
Not  that  aught  except  a  fairy-tale  princess  would  bo 
good  enough  for  him." 

Marise  did  not  answer.  What  was  there  to  say?' 
But  they  had  arrived  at  Mothereen's  house. 

It,  too,  was  Spanish,  in  a  modern,  miniature  way, 
and  Mothereen  explained  it  to  Marise.  "  Johnny  wanted 
to  build  me  something  bigger  and  more  statuesque  like," 
she  said.  "But  I  wouldn't  let  him.  I  love  a  little 
house.  I'm  at  home  in  it.  I  have  no  grand  ways.  I 
hope  it's  the  same  with  you,  me  dear !  Though  for  sure 
it  will  be,  on  yer  honeymoon,  with  the  best  boy  in  the 
wurruld,  just  back  safe  from  the  terrible  war!  Ze — 
I  mean  he — did  speak  of  a  'suite'  to  put  the  two  of  ye 
up  in,  but  I  warrant  ye  won't  be  the  one  to  say  yer 
quarters  are  too  small!  .  .  .  Come  in,  will  ye?  And 
welcome  ye  both  are  as  the  sunshine  after  rain !" 

Marise  obeyed  the  arm  round  her  waist,  but  a  pre- 
sentiment of  trouble  was  upon  the  girl.  She  foresaw  a 
dilemma.  And  it  had  two  long  horns.  She  was  be- 
tween them ! 


CHAPTEE  XXVIII 

MOTHEREEN" 

MOTHEEEEN  led  them  over  the  house,  which  was 
built  in  bungalow  style,  all  on  one  floor,  saying 
to  Garth,  "Do  you  remember  this  ?  Do  you  remember 
that?"  and  pointing  out  to  Marise  details  upon  which 
she  could  hang  some  anecdote  of  "Johnny." 

"But  I've  saved  the  best  for  the  last,"  she  announced. 
"Now  I'm  going  to  take  ye  to  your  'suite,'  as  Ze — as 
it's  fashionable  to  call  it.  Ye  know,  Johnny,  the  spare 
bedroom  with  the  bath  openin'  out  ?  Well,  I've  added 
onto  it  the  little  sewin'-room,  done  up  the  best  I  could 
in  a  hurry.  And  if  that  doesn't  make  a  'suite,'  what 
does?  There's  no  door  from  one  room  into  the  other, 
that's  the  trouble!  I'd  a'  had  one  cut  if  there'd  been 
time,  but  there  wasn't.  Still,  it's  the  next  room,  and 
the  two  of  ye  will  have  the  whole  use  of  it,  so  I  hope 
the  dear  gurrl  will  excuse  the  deficiencies." 

"I'm  sure  there  won't  be  any  deficiencies!"  ex- 
claimed Marise  graciously.  Garth  was  right  to  love  his 
"Mothereen" !  She  was  certainly  an  adorable  woman, 
and  too  delicious  when  she  rolled  out  a  long  word.  The 
girl  was  pleased  to  hear  that  there  was  no  door  between 
her  room  and  Garth's.  Not  that  he  was  likely  to  annoy 
her.  But — who  could  tell  if  he  would  not  be  different 
here  in  his  own  home,  where  everyone  made  a  hero  of 
him,  from  what  he  had  seemed  in  her  New  York  ?  It 
was  just  as  well  that  she  was  to  be  on  the  safe  side. 

"What  a  pretty  room!"  she  cried  out,  as,  with  a 

224 


MOTHEREEN  225 

proud  housewifely  look,  Mothereen  flung  open  a  door. 
"Why,  it's  lovely !    Is  this  mine  ?" 

"Of  course  it's  yours,  darlin' — yours  and  Johnny's," 
said  Mothereen,  beaming  with  pleasure  at  such  praisa 
"Come  and  look  out  of  the  window,  ducky.  John 
knows  what's  there,  but  'twill  be  a  surprise  for  you." 

Still  clasped  by  the  plump  arm,  Marise  crossed  the 
polished  floor,  which  was  spread  with  beautiful  Indian 
rugs.  The  walls  were  white,  and  hung  with  a  few  good 
pictures  of  desert  scenery  and  strange  Indian  mesas. 
The  furniture  was  simple,  but  interesting:  made  of 
eucalyptus  wood,  pink  as  faded  rose-leaves  against  its 
white  background;  and  everywhere  were  bowls  of 
curious  Egyptian-looking  Indian  pottery,  filled  with 
roses.  The  one  immense  window  took  up  nearly  all  one 
end  of  the  room,  and  opened  Spanish  fashion  upon  a 
garden-court  with  a  fountain,  a  marble  bench,  and  a 
number  of  small  orange  trees  grouped  together  to  shade 
the  seat. 

"  'Twas  Johnny's  idea,"  Mothereen  explained,  when 
Marise  had  complimented  the  court.  "The  next  room 
looks  on  it,  too.  And  now  ye'd  both  better  come  and 
see  what  I've  done  with  that  same!" 

She  led  the  way  out  again,  and  opened  the  door  of  an 
adjoining  room.  "I  do  hope  ye'll  like  it  too!"  she 
said.  "It's  yer  own  little  sittin'-room,  and  you  two 
turtle-doves  can  have  yer  breakfast  here  by  yerselves 
if  ye  like." 

With  all  her  goodwill  towards  "Mothereen,"  Marise 
could  not  repress  a  slight  gasp,  or  a  stiffening  of  the 
supple  young  figure  belted  by  the  kind  woman's  arm; 
for  her  first  glimpse  of  the  room  gave  her  an  electric 
shock.  The  room  was  a  "sittin'-room,"  and  nothing 
else. 


226  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"Is  anything  wrong,  darlin'?"  anxiously  asked 
Mothereen. 

Marise  hesitated.  Involuntarily  she  glanced  over  her 
shoulder  at  Garth,  who  was  close  behind.  She  met  his 
eyes,  which  implored  hers. 

"Oh  no,  indeed!"  the  girl  protested.  "It's — it's 
charming.  I  was  thinking  of  something  else  for  an 
instant." 

"Ye're  sure  everything's  all  right?"  Mothereen  per- 
sisted, her  pretty  brows  puckered. 

"Quite  sure.    Thank  you  so  much !" 

"Nothing  ye'd  like  to  have  me  change  ?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  Marise  consoled  her,  in  a  strained 
tone. 

"Well  then,  I'm  glad,  and  I'll  leave  ye  to  yerselves  for 
a  while.  Come  out  to  me  when  ye  feel  like  it  and  not 
before — one  or  both.  And  ye'll  be  welcome  as  the 
flowers  in  May." 

She  kissed  Marise  and  snuggled  her  cheek,  rosy  and 
fresh  as  an  apple,  against  the  arm  of  her  adopted  son. 
Then  she  was  gone  with  a  parting  smile,  and  Garth  shut 
the  door. 

"That  was  mighty  fine  behaviour  of  yours,  and  I 
thank  you  with  all  my  heart,"  he  said  to  Marise. 

She  had  dropped  into  a  chair,  tremulous  about  the 
knees.  "You  needn't  thank  me,"  she  answered.  "What 
I  did  was  for  her/' 

"I  know.  That's  why  I  thank  you,"  said  Garth.  "I 
think  a  lot  more  about  Mothereen's  feelings  than  I  do 
my  own.  Mine  are  case-hardened — hers  aren't,  and 
never  could  be.    You  sc-c,  she's  fond  of  me." 

"I  do  see !    So  is  everybody  else — here,  it  seems." 

"They're  warm-hearted  folks  out  in  the  West.  They 
love  to  make  a  noise.    I  hope  you  weren't  disgusted." 


MOTHEREEN  227 

"]STo,  I  liked  them/'  said  Marise.  "They  seemed  so 
sincere.  And  Mrs.  Mooney  is  the  dearest  little  woman. 
I'd  have  my  tongue  cut  out — almost ! — rather  than  she 
should  be  sad.  But  now  the  question  is,  what's  to  be 
done  ?    I  tried  to  help  you.    You  must  help  me." 

"I  will,"  Garth  assured  her.  "It's  going  to  be  all 
right." 

"But  how — without  hurting  her?"  Marise  looked 
round  the  room.     "You  can't  sleep  on  that  little  sofa." 

"I  can  sleep  on  the  floor  rolled  up  in  a  blanket.  That 
would  have  seemed  a  soft  billet  in  Erance." 

"You'd  be  wretchedly  uncomfortable.  And  how 
would  you  bathe  ?" 

"I  guess  you  don't  need  to  worry  yourself  about  that 
detail.    I'll  manage  the  business  in  one  way  or  other." 

"That  sounds  vague!  What's  become  of  the  room 
which  used  to  be  yours  in  this  house,  before  you  went 
to  the  war?" 

"Your  bedroom  next  door  is  the  one.  The  only  spare 
room  we  had  in  those  days  was  this,  where  we're  sitting 
now.  We  never  had  any  people  come  to  stay,  though, 
so  Mothereen  turned  it  into  a  sewing-room." 

"I  see!  And  you  can't  slip  out  to  an  hotel  or  any- 
where, because  every  human  being  in  town  knows  you." 

"No,  I  can't  slip  out.    But — well,  we  are  married !" 

Mariso  started,  and  stared.  Her  eyes  opened  wide. 
She  looked  ready  to  spring  up  and  run  away. 

"All  I  was  going  to  say  is  this,"  Garth  went  on. 
"There's  a  big  screen  or  two  in  your  room,  I  noticed. 
Perhaps,  as  you're  kind  enough  not  to  want  me  to  go 
unwashed,  you'd  stretch  a  point,  and  let  me  walk 
through  to  the  bath  with  a  couple  of  screens  in  position. 
We  needn't  stay  more  than  two  days  and  nights,  the  way 
things  have   turned   out.     Mothereen   will   be   disap- 


228  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

pointed,  but  her  feelings  won't  be  hurt  because  I  stall 
take  steps  to  get  a  wire  from  a  friend  of  mine  at  the 
Grand  Canyon.  The  friend  will  tell  me  that  I'm  needed 
at  once  on  a  matter  of  importance.  That'll  do  the  trick. 
And  Mothereen  can  make  up  for  lost  time  by  visiting  me 
— us,  at  Vision  House." 

"Vision  House!" 

"Yes,  I  named  it  that  You  wouldn't  be  interested 
in  the  reason  why." 

Marise  felt  that  she  would  be  interested,  but  didn't 
<eare  to  say  so. 

"You  wouldn't  mind  her  coming  to  the  Canyon?" 
he  asked. 

"Of  course  not!  I  should  be  delighted.  That  is,  if 
I  were  there." 

"You  would  be  there." 

"I  mightn't.  You  see — things  will  change.  Mums 
will  come,  and — and — I  shall  go  away — with  her.  You 
know  what  will  happen." 

"Who  knows  anything  about  the  future?  But  let 
it  take  care  of  itself.  There's  plenty  to  think  of  in  the 
present,  isn't  there  ?" 

"Too  much!" 

"JSTot  for  me.  Can  you  bring  yourself  to  agree  to 
that  plan  I  proposed  ?    The  screen " 

"Oh,  I  suppose  it's  the  only  thing  to  do !  I've  played 
bedroom  scenes  on  the  stage,  and  this " 

"Very  well.    That's  settled,  then." 

"Ye-es.  Except — about  your  belongings.  I  suppose 
Mrs.  Mooney  is  sure  to  run  in  now  and  then  to  see  how 
— we — are  getting  on." 

"I'm  afraid  she  will.    Unless  we  tell  her  to  stay  out." 

"We  won't  do  that!     I  suppose  your  toilet  things 


MOTHEREEN  229 

will  Have  to  be  in  my  room — on  that  tallboy  with  the 
mirror  which  Mrs.  Mooney  evidently  meant  for  them." 

"If  you  can  bear  the  contamination !" 

Marise  glanced  at  him.  But  he  did  not  speak  the 
words  bitterly.  He  was  faintly  smiling,  though  it  was 
not  precisely  a  gay  smile.  She  wanted  to  smile  back, 
but  feared  to  begin  again  with  "smiling  terms,"  so  she 
replied  gravely  that  it  could  be  quite  well  arranged. 
"I'll  explain — enough — to  Celine,  and  she'll  unpack  for 
you,"  the  girl  suggested. 

"That's  a  kind  thought !"  said  Garth.  And  then,  as 
if  satisfied  with  the  way  in  which  troublesome  matters 
had  shaped  themselves,  he  got  up.  "I  expect  you'd 
like  to  have  your  maid  in  now,  to  help  you,"  he  sug- 
gested. "You  can  ring,  and  I'll  go  and  have  a  chin  with 
Mothereen." 

Celine  was  lodged  at  a  distance,  but  there  was  a  bell 
communicating  with  her  quarters.  She  came,  in  an 
excited  mood. 

"But  it  is  a  house  of  charm,  Madame!"  she  ex- 
claimed. (It  had  ceased  to  seem  strange,  now,  being 
"Madamed"  by  Celine.)  "Monsieur  Garth — the  two 
domestics  who  have  for  him  an  adoration,  say  he  built 
it.  And  he  has  another  place  larger  and  more  beautiful, 
where  we  go.    It  is,  then,  that  Monsieur  is  rich." 

Marise  did  not  answer.  But  she  would  have  given 
something  to  do  so,  out  of  her  own  knowledge.  Garth 
and  all  his  circumstances,  and  surroundings,  were  be- 
coming actually  mysterious  to  her.  She  was  puzzled  at 
every  turn. 

"You  mustn't  gossip  with  the  servants  here,  Celine," 
she  said. 

"But  no,  naturally  not,   Madame!"   protested   the 


230  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

maid.  "I  will  listen  to  all  they  say,  and  speak  nothing 
in  return.  So  Madame  wishes  the  effects  of  Monsieur 
placed  in  this  room  ?    Parfaitement !    It  shall  be  done." 

Luncheon  was  outwardly  a  happy  meal.  Mothereen 
so  radiated  joy  in  her  adored  one's  return  that  Marise 
was  infected  with  her  gaiety  of  spirit.  After  all,  life 
was  only  one  adventure  after  another,  and  this  was  an 
adventure  like  the  rest.  Well,  not  exactly  like  the  rest  I 
But  at  least,  it  was  not  dull ! 

All  the  afternoon  there  were  callers,  and  Mothereen 
broke  it  to  the  bride  and  bridegroom  that,  without  be- 
ing disagreeable,  she  could  not  avoid  inviting  a  "few 
folks  to  dinner,  and  some  to  drop  in  later."  "The 
dinner  ones  are  our  grand  people,"  she  explained  to 
Marise,  "the  Mayor  and  his  wife,  and  a  son  who  is  a 
Colonel.  He  has  married  a  French  wife.  She  is  very 
stylish,  and  she'll  have  on  her  best  clothes  to-night. 
They  say  she's  got  grand  jewels.  But  sure,  they  won't 
hold  a  candle  to  yours." 

"I  haven't  brought  many  with  me,  I'm  sorry  to  say," 
replied  Marise. 

Mothereen's  face  fell  for  an  instant,  then  brightened. 
"Oh,  I  clean  forgot,"  she  exclaimed.  "The  beautiful 
things  I  have  waitin'  fur  ye.  They'll  be  on  yer  dressin'- 
table  to-night.  Now,  not  a  wurrud,  darlin' !  Ask  me 
no  questions,  I'll  tell  ye  no  lies.    This  is  a  secret." 

Intrigued,  Marise  became  impatient  to  go  to  her 
room,  but  could  not  escape  there  till  it  was  time  to  dress. 
Celine  was  already  on  the  spot,  preparing  her  mistress's 
dress  for  the  evening:  bridal  white  frock,  scintillating 
with  crystal;  little  slippers,  silk  stockings,  a  petticoat 
of  rose-embroidered  chiffon  and  lace. 

But  Marise  did  not  cast  a  glance  at  these  things.    She 


MOTHEREEN  231 

walked  straight  to  the  dressing-table,  and  couldn't  help 
giving  a  little  squeak.  For  there  lay  the  missing  jewel- 
cases — those  she  had  thrown  into  the  corridor  at  the 
Plaza  Hotel  on  her  wedding  night — and  had  never  seen 
since. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


THE   WHITE   DOVE 


T\>T ARISE  and  Garth  neatly  arranged  their  life  ac- 
<***  cording  to  stateroom  etiquette  on  shipboard. 
When  one  was  in  the  bedroom  the  other  was  in  the 
sitting-room  next  door.  They  were  like  the  figures  of 
the  man  and  woman  who  come  out  and  go  in  at  the 
adjacent  doors  of  a  barometer;  and  the  plan,  though 
inconvenient,  was  not  unworkable.  When  the  girl  had 
opened  the  jewel-cases  and  gazed  once  more  at  the 
glories  she  had  thought  lost  forever  to  her  repentant 
eyes,  she  couldn't  resist  tapping  on  the  wall  with  a  gold- 
backed  hair-brush — one  Garth  had  given  her.  Indeed, 
she  did  not  stop  to  think  better  of  the  impulse. 

Her  heart — or  some  distantly  related  muscles  round 
the  organ — had  suddenly  warmed  towards  the  man. 
This  thaw  was  doubtless  produced  by  remorse.  For 
she  had  believed,  on  no  evidence  save  instinct,  that  he 
had  given  these  lovely  things — her  wedding  presents, 
although  discarded ! — to  Zelie  Marks.  Instead,  he  must 
have  expressed  them  to  Mrs.  Mooney  in  order  that  she 
— Marise — should  have  a  chance  to  change  her  mind. 
Foxy  of  him,  because  it  would  be  difficult  to  refuse  the 
gifts  again,  coming  as  they  did  from  the  innocent  hands 
of  Mothereen !  However,  she  would  see.  She'd  have  a 
talk  with  Garth,  and  then  decide. 

Garth  was  in  the  sitting-room,  pretending  to  himself 
that  he  was  interested  in  the  evening  paper.  He  jumped 

232 


THE  WHITE  DOVE  233 

up  at  the  sound  of  a  tap  on  the  wall,  hardly  believing 
his  own  ears.  But  a  knock  at  Marise' s  door  brought  a 
"Come  in !"  which  did  not  sound  grudging. 

Marise  in  a  so-called  robe  de  chambre  was  more 
dressed  than  in  "Dolores's"  third  act  ball-gown  at  the 
theatre,  yet  there  was  such  a  bizarre  touch  of  intimacy 
in  being  admitted  to  this  bedroom  scene  on  the  stage 
of  life  that  numerous  volts  of  electricity  seemed  to 
shoot  through  Garth's  nerves.  His  face  was  composed, 
however,  even  stolid.    "You  wanted  me  ?"  he  asked. 

Marise  didn't  directly  answer  that  question.  She 
pointed  to  the  jewel-cases.  "Mrs. — Mooney  put  these 
here,"  she  said.  "I — wanted  to  tell  you  I'm  glad  they 
weren't  stolen  or — anything." 

Her  words  gave  him  time  to  swallow  his  surprise, 
which  was  quite  as  great  as  her  own  had  been  at  sight 
of  the  jewels.  But  he  guessed  at  once  what  had  hap- 
pened. What  a  trump  Zelie  was!  A  grand  girl! 
She'd  make  a  fine  wife  for  someone.  He'd  been  a 
clumsy  ass  to  force  these  things  upon  her  in  a  moment  of 
fury  against  Marise;  and  Zelie  had  done  exactly  right. 
He  was  immensely  grateful.  Some  day  he  must  find  a 
way  to  repay  her  for  silently  handing  him  a  big  chance 
— a  chance  that  might  mean  a  lot,  which  but  for  her 
thought,  her  generosity,  he  would  have  missed. 

Well,  it  was  up  to  him  not  to  miss  it  now!  He'd 
been  an  idiot  over  these  baubles  once.  He  mustn't  "fall 
down"  over  them  again;  and  to  let  Marise  guess  how 
he'd  bungled — how  a  girl  she  didn't  appreciate  yet  had 
straightened  matters  out — would  be  to  prove  himself  a 
priceless  ass. 

"Thank  you  for  saying  that,"  he  quietly  replied. 

"I  did  tell  you  once  before  that  I  was  sorry  I'd 
thrown  the  jewel-cases  on  the  floor.    It  was  horrid  of 


234  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

me.  I  felt  afterwards  I'd  been  most  ill-bred,"  vouch- 
safed Marise. 

"No.     More  like  a  bad-tempered  child,"  said  Garth. 

"You  weren't  nice  to  me  when  I  tried  to  apologise," 
the  girl  went  on. 

"Were  you  trying  to  apologise?  Sorry!  I  didn't 
understand." 

"What  did  you  think  I  was  trying  to  do  ?" 

"Did  you  ever  see  a  small  boy  take  a  stick,  and  stir 
up  some  beast  in  its  cage  at  a  Zoo  ?  If  you  did,  you'll 
know." 

Marise  laughed.    "What  sort  of  a  beast  ?" 

"Any  sort  with  a  sore  head." 

"Well — to  change  the  subject,"  she  said  rather 
hastily,  "let's  talk  not  about  beasts,  but  about  jewels. 
I've  apologised.  And  now  officially  I  put  these  valuable 
things  into  your  hands." 

"I'd  rather  leave  them  in  yours,"  said  Garth. 

"But — I  told  you  before  I  really  couldn't  keep  them 
— in  the  circumstances." 

"Haven't  the  circumstances  changed — just  a  little?" 

"I — don't  quite  see  how  you  mean." 

"Don't  you?  In  that  case,  I  suppose  they  haven't. 
Won't  you  change,  then — enough  to  keep  the  things,  as 
I've  no  use  for  them  ?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't.  You  may  have  a  use  for  them 
some  day,  you  know." 

"What  use  ?  I  don't  seem  to  see  Mothereen  in  pearls 
and  laurel  wreaths." 

The  picture  called  up  made  them  both  smile.  "No, 
but  you  won't — won't  be  bound  to  me  for  ever,"  Marise 
explained,  her  cheeks  growing  pink.  "There'll  be  some 
other  girl;  a  girl  that  perhaps  you  haven't  even  met, 
yet " 


THE  WHITE  DOVE  235 

"Never  on  God's  earth  will  there  be  a  girl  for  me, 
that  I  haven't  met." 

Remembrance  of  a  girl  he  had  met  darted  through  the 
mind  of  Marise.  Zelie  Marks !  Was  the  same  thought 
in  his  mind  ?  she  wondered. 

"Who  can  tell  about  these  things?"  she  murmured 
vaguely.  "Anyhow,  you  must  please  take  charge  of 
your  jewels  now." 

"But  you  said  this  morning  you  wouldn't  like  to  hurt 
Mothereen's  feelings." 

"What  have  her  feelings  to  do  with  the  jewels?" 

"Just  this.  She's  been  keeping  them  for  the  great 
day — the  day  of  our  coming.  She  knows  they  were  my 
wedding  present  to  you " 

"Then  she  knows  that  you  were  shockingly  extrava- 
gant." 

"Perhaps  she  doesn't  think  so.  She's  better  ac- 
quainted with  my  circumstances  than  you  are.  Any- 
how, she's  looking  forward  to  seeing  you  all  dolled  up 
in  the  things  to-night,  and  it'll  be  a  blow  for  her  if 
you're  not.  She  won't  say  a  word  to  you.  Only  she's 
sure  to  ask  me " 

"Oh,  all  right !  I'll  wear  the  lot !"  snapped  Marise. 
She  spoke  rather  crossly,  but  Garth  was  not  dashed. 
He  was,  indeed,  happier  than  he  had  been  since  his  wed- 
ding day.  His  dummy  hand  might  have  scored  a  success 
once  or  twice  before  during  the  strange  fortnight  they 
had  passed  together,  yet  a  world  apart.  He  wasn't 
certain.  But  he  was  certain  of  this:  it  was  a  small 
triumph.  He  had  a  "hunch"  that,  when  the  girl  had 
once  seen  herself  in  the  pearls,  the  pendant,  and  the 
wreath  of  emerald  laurel  leaves,  she  wouldn't  be  anxious 
to  give  them  up. 

"That's  very  good  of  you,"  he  thanked  her  formally. 


236  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"I'm  obliged  to  you  for  Mothereen's  sake  as  well  as — 
but  no  matter  for  the  rest.  It's  nothing  to  you,  of 
course." 

As  he  spoke,  Garth  walked  to  the  door  without  wait- 
ing for  a  hint  from  Marise.  "You'll  want  to  go  on 
dressing,"  he  said,  "so  as  to  leave  the  place  clear  for 
me."  Then,  without  another  word,  he  went  out  and 
shut  the  door. 

Marise  stared  at  herself  in  the  mirror.  "You  might 
have  two  noses — or  none — for  all  the  notice  he  took  of 
your  looks,"  she  told  her  reflection. 

History  repeated  itself  that  evening.  The  guests 
were  all  hero-worshippers,  as  the  crowd  had  been  at  the 
station.  The  bride  was  admired.  No  one  could  help 
admiring  her.  Face,  figure,  hair,  clothes,  and  jewels 
were  all  wonderful.  But  even  those  who  seemed  to 
admire  her  most  blatantly  betrayed  their  opinion  that 
she  was  a  lucky  girl  to  have  got  Jack  Garth — she,  only 
an  actress! 

Some  of  the  people  had  come  a  long  distance  to  wel- 
come home  the  V.O.  from  the  great  war,  and  among 
these  were  a  young  couple  who  interested  Marise,  bo- 
cause  they  appeared  so  frankly  in  love  with  each  other. 
What  their  last  name  was,  she  didn't  learn.  Mothereen 
must  have  thought  that  she  had  heard  of  them  from 
Garth.  "Here  are  Billy  and  Cath,"  she  introduced 
them,  adding,  "This  is  our  dear  Marise." 

Billy  was  in  the  Army,  and  had  fought  in  France 
when  America  "went  in."  He  was  stationed  somewhere 
— Marise  didn't  know  where — and  Cath  had  been  a 
"war  bride."  She  looked  delicate,  though  pretty;  and 
another  girl  whispered  to  Marise,  "Cath  was  never 
strong,  but  when  Billy  was  reported  missing  a  year  ago 
she  went  right  down,   and  the  doctors  thought  she'd 


THE  WHITE  DOVE  237 

got  T.B.  My,  you  don't  know  what  T.B.  means? 
Everyone  out  here  knows  only  too  well,  because  the 
climate  in  these  parts  and  Arizona  is  so  good,  lots  of  'em 
come  to  get  cured.  Consumption,  of  course.  But  joy's 
the  best  medicine  in  the  world.  You  can  realise  how 
it  would  be  with  you  if  it  had  been  your  gorgeous  Jack ! 
I  guess  Cath  will  get  well  now,  though  she  isn't  quite 
right  yet — and  I  don't  suppose  Billy'd  have  let  her  take 
such  a  trip  for  anyone  but  Jack  Garth." 

They  had  motored  from  "home,"  wherever  that  was, 
in  what  they  called  a  "tin  Lizzie,"  and  Billy  had  driven 
the  car  himself.  When  everyone  else  was  gone,  Cath 
was  still  in  the  house,  for  there  was  trouble  with 
"Lizzie,"  and  Garth  had  gone  out  with  his  friend  to 
see  what  it  was. 

Cath  looked  very  tired,  but  her  eyes  were  bright,  and 
a  pink  flush  high  on  her  rather  thin  cheeks  melted  into 
shadows  under  thick  dark  lashes.  She  talked  excitedly 
to  Marise  about  "Jack  and  Bill,"  telling  the  stranger 
anecdotes  which  would  have  thrilled  a  loving  bride,  but 
now  and  then  she  glanced  wistfully  at  the  door. 

At  last  the  two  men  came  back,  and  the  girl  half 
sprang  up.  "I  was  getting  worried!"  she  cried.  "Is 
Lizzie  going  to  behave  herself  ?" 

"That's  what  I  wish  I  was  sure  of,"  said  Billy.  "The 
little  brute  is  in  the  sulks,  and  not  even  Jack  can  get  at 
the  reason,  so  it  must  be  pretty  deep-seated.  Still,  she 
may  bump  us  home  if  I  coax  her  along." 

"Good  gracious,  boy!"  exclaimed  Mothereen. 
"That'll  never  do  for  Cath !  Why,  you  might  be  stuck 
for  hours.  You  and  she  must  stay  here  and  we'll  lend 
you  what  you  need." 

"Oh,  thank  you,  darling!"  Cath  answered.  "That 
would  be  wonderful.     I  am  tired.     But  are  you  sure 


238  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

you've  room  to  squeeze  us  in,  now  you've  got  Jack  and 
his  wife  with  you  ?" 

Mothereen  started.  "My  saints!"  she  gasped.  "I'd 
forgotten  we'd  made  a  suite  for  them.  But  that  doesn't 
matter  a  bit.    There'll  be  room.    And  you'll  stop." 

Billy  and  Cath  protested.  They  wouldn't  upset  the 
house  for  worlds.  It  wasn't  so  late  but  Bill  could  go 
into  the  town  and  knock  up  the  folks  at  a  hotel. 

"Nothing  of  the  sort,"  Mothereen  scolded.  "We'll 
have  a  cot  bed  put  into  my  room — mine's  too  narrow 
for  two;  and  sure  I  am  that  Marise  won't  mind  my 
having  a  bunk  fixed  up  for  the  night  in  her  sitting- 
room." 

Fortunately  Cath  and  Bill  were  both  talking  too  fast 
at  the  same  time  to  notice  the  expression  of  the  bride's 
face,  and  Mothereen  was  looking  at  them.  With  all 
her  wish  not  to  hurt  Mothereen,  the  line  had  to  be 
drawn  somewhere.  Marise,  trying  to  control  her  face, 
glanced  at  Garth.  Her  eyes  said,  "This  is  up  to  you. 
You've  got  to  save  me.    Think  of  something,  quick !" 

"Of  course,  nobody'll  hear  of  your  turning  out, 
Mothereen !"  Garth  flung  himself  into  the  breach.  "I 
expect  Marise  will  invite  Cath  in  to  chum  with  her. 
Then  Bill  and  I  will  shift  for  ourselves.    We " 

But  an  outcry  from  Cath,  Bill,  and  Mothereen  cut  his 
words  in  two.  None  of  them  would  hear  of  such  a  thing. 
Part  a  honeymoon  pair  like  that  ?  Never !  It  would  be 
a  crime. 

"Why  shouldn't  Cath  and  I  have  that  sitting-room  if 
Mrs.  Garth  can  spare  it?"  asked  Bill. 

"We-ell,"  Mothereen  temporised,  and  glanced  with  a 
smile  at  Marise.    "What  do  you  say,  darling  ?" 

It  was  a  terrific  moment  for  the  girl.  It  was  worse 
than  not  knowing  your  part  on  the  first  night  of  a  new 


THE  WHITE  DOVE  239 

play.  Again  her  eyes  turned  to  Garth.  But  this  time 
he  was  caught  unprepared.  He  missed  his  cue,  and 
looked  agonised.  Marise  believed  that  he  was  thinking 
of  Mothereen  more  than  of  her.  Still,  she  was  sorry  for 
the  man.  She  just  couldn't  "let  him  down"  before  his 
adored  one  and  his  friends.  Besides,  she  had  never 
quite  forgotten  the  ring  of  his  voice  on  the  night  after 
the  wedding  when  he  had  bidden  her  trust  him.  In  his 
strange  way — such  as  it  was — he  had  never  failed  her 
since.    JSTo,  she  wouldn't  let  him  down! 

"What  do  I  say?"  she  answered  Mothereen.  "I  say 
'Yes/  of  course.  I'm — delighted!  Can't  we  all  help 
to  make  up  their  beds,  and  bring  in  washstands  and 
things?" 

They  all  did  help.  And  everyone  lent  Cath  and  Bill 
something — "for  luck."  Garth  contributed  pyjamas 
for  his  friend.  Mothereen  kept  a  supply  of  new  tooth- 
brushes of  all  sizes  and  qualities.  Cath  squeaked  with 
joy  over  the  "nighty"  Marise  offered. 

Then  at  last  came  the  moment  for  bidding  each  other 
"sleep  well! — sweet  dreams!"  The  door  of  Cath  and 
Bill's  bedroom  shut.  Mothereen  followed  Marise  into 
her  quarters  adjoining,  kissed  and  complimented  her, 
and  called  Garth,  who  was  looking  at  a  picture  of  him- 
self in  his  first  British  uniform,  enlarged  to  enormous 
size  in  crayon,  framed  in  gilt  and  hung  up  in  the  hall. 

"Marise  has  sent  her  maid  to  bed,"  Mothereen  ex- 
plained. "She  was  tired  after  the  journey — a  train 
headache.  I  thought  I  could  undo  this  lovely  wreath 
for  her,  but  I  can't.    Will  you  try  ?" 

Garth  tried.  He'd  never  touched  the  girl's  hair  be- 
fore. Its  ripples  were  so  soft — so  soft!  He  had  not 
known  that  a  woman's  hair  could  feel  so  divine  as  that. 
For  an  instant  he  was  afraid  that  a  certain  unsteadiness 


240  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

of  his  fingers  would  make  him  awkward.  But  he  almost 
prayed  that  it  might  not,  and  the  prayer — if  it  was  a 
prayer — had  its  answer.  H°>  happened  to  be  particu- 
larly deft.  The  emerald  laurel  wreath  yielded  its  secret 
to  him,  and  without  disturbing  one  of  those  wonderful 
golden  waves,  he  laid  the  glittering  thing  on  the  table. 

"Well,  I'll  say  good  night,  then,  me  dear  ones,"  said 
Mothereen.  "It's  made  me  as  happy  as  a  bird,  sure  it 
has,  to  see  your  happiness.  The  Lord  is  good  to  us  all, 
He  who  brought  Johnny  back,  safe  and  sound,  out  o'  the 
Furnace.    His  blessin'  on  ye  both  this  night  !" 

Then  she  was  gone. 

Her  words  had  brought  a  sense  of  peace  into  the 
room,  as  if  a  white  dove  had  flown  in. 


CHAPTER  XXX 

THE   VIGIL   LIGHT 

I'LL  go  and  rouse  up  one  of  the  hotels/'  said  Garth. 
"But  you're  in  evening  dress,"  Marise  reminded 
him.     "You  can't  come  back  like  that  in  the  morning. 
Besides,  what  would  the  people  think  ?" 

"Hang  the  people!"  Garth  replied. 

"One  can't — unfortunately." 

"Well,  here's  a  better  plan.  I'll  sit  outside  in  the 
garden  court.  I  can  come  in — if  you'll  let  me — before 
there's  any  chance  of  being  seen." 

Marise  shivered.    "It  would  be  cold !" 

"Pooh!"  said  Garth.  "It's  never  really  cold  here. 
Don't  forget  it  wasn't  exactly  a  picnic,  those  years  in 
France.    I  don't  think  I  shall  ever  mind  cold  again." 

"Anyhow,  I  should  feel  a  brute  sleeping  calmly  here, 
with  you  sitting  on  a  hard  bench  out  of  doors.  I  may 
not  be  a  very  nice  person,"  Marise  criticised  herself, 
"but  I'm  not  a  thorough-paced  pig.  We  must  think  of 
some  other  possible  arrangement." 

"There's  only  one  other  possible  arrangement.  And 
you'd  not  consider  that  possible." 

"What  is  it  ?"  rather  breathlessly. 

"For  you  to  make  yourself  comfortable  behind  a 
barricade  of  those  two  useful  screens  in  your  bedroom, 
while  I  sit  up  in  an  armchair — or  spread  myself  out  on 
this  sofa." 

"I  do  consider  that  possible,"  said  Marise,  "now  I 

241 


242  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

know  what  kind  of  a  man  you  are.  That's  what  we'll 
do !  I'll  slip  on  a  dressing-gown  and  curl  up  on  top  of 
the  bed  under  an  eiderdown.  And  early  in  the  morning 
the  one  that's  awake  will  call  the  other.  It's  quite 
simple — and  you  see  I'm  not  so  disagreeable  as  you 
thought." 

"Have  I  ever  given  you  cause  to  believe  I  thought 
you  disagreeable?" 

"Dear  me,  yes!  Whole  heaps  of  times!  Not  that 
it  matters." 

"I  suppose  it  wouldn't  matter  to  you.  But  it  does 
matter  to  me,  'what  kind  of  a  man'  you  'now  know'  me 
to  be.  Have  you  been  studying  me  ?  I  hadn't  noticed 
it.  But  if  you  have,  I'd  be  interested  to  hear  what 
conclusions  you've  come  to.    Do  you  mind  telling  me  ?" 

"Oh,  my  conclusions  mostly  concern  your  state  of 
mind  regarding  me!"  said  Marise. 

"What,  according  to  you,  is  it  ?" 

"Dislike,"  she  replied  promptly. 

"That's  a  strong  word!"  Garth  blurted  out.  They 
were  standing  in  the  middle  of  the  room,  eyeing  each 
other  as  might  a  pair  of  duellists  obliged  to  fight  over 
some  technical  dispute.  "Have  I  been  so  brutal  to  you 
as  all  that?" 

"You  haven't  been  brutal  lately.  You  were — dread- 
fully— at  first." 

"H'm !    You  weren't  exactly  angelic  to  me." 

"There's  nothing  very  angelic  in  the — in  the  affair." 

"What,  precisely,  do  you  mean  by  'the  affair'  ?" 

"The — er — bargain." 

"I  thought  I'd  convinced  you  that  the  'bargain'  had 
collapsed." 

"Well,  our — marriage,  then,  if  you  like  that  better. 
I've  wondered  every  minute  what  you  did  marry  me 


THE  VIGIL  LIGHT  243 

for,  if  it  wasn't  money.  And  sometimes  I  think  it 
couldn't  have  been,  because  you  seem  to  have  plenty  of 
your  own.     Still " 

"Some  men  with  plenty  could  do  with  more.  Is  that 
what  you'd  say  ?" 

"I'm  not  sure  what  I'd  say — about  you." 

"I  suppose  you  think  that  a  million  dollars  would 
always  be  worth  having.  I'm  sure  your  mother  would 
think  that." 

"The  question  is,  not  what  we'd  think,  but  what  you 
thought — when  you  married  me." 

Garth  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  in  silence,  as  if 
weighing  his  answer,  wondering  whether  to  stick  to  his 
fixed  plan  of  remoteness,  or  risk  "giving  himself  away." 

"Do  you  remember  any  of  the  things  I  said  to  you  the 
first  day  we  met  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"Yes,  I  remember  you  thought — then — you  lo — you 
admired  me  a  good  deal.  But  you  were  a  different  man 
that  day  from  what  you  were  afterwards." 

"You're  right !  I  was.  A  different  man.  The  word 
you  broke  off  just  now  was  the  one  word  for  what  I  felt. 
Only  it  didn't  express  half.  I  loved  you  with  all  there 
was  of  me.  I  adored  and  worshipped  you.  But — I 
don't  believe  you've  ever  been  in  love  yourself  except  on 
the  surface,  or  I'd  ask  you  how  much  you  think  love  can 
stand,  and  live  ?" 

Marise  felt  the  blood  pour  up  to  her  cheeks  and  tingle 
in  the  tips  of  her  ears.  So  it  was  true  that  he  didn't 
love  her  now!  The  thought  hurt  her  vanity.  She 
hated  to  believe  that  a  man  who'd  loved  her  once  could 
tmlove  her  in  a  few  days  or  weeks.  But  it  annoyed  her 
very  much  to  flush.  She  wished  to  look  entirely  un- 
moved.    Instead,  she  wanted  to  cry. 

"Please  do  tell  me  once  for  all  why  you  married  me  if 


244  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

it  wasn't  either  for  love  or  money !"  she  said  crossly, 
with  a  quiver  in  her  voice. 

"When  one  mates  a  bold  move  on  the  chessboard — 
the  chessboard  of  life — there  are  often  several  motives/' 
Garth  replied.  "Sometimes  it's  to  save  the  queen  from 
being  taken  by  an  enemy  piece.  Perhaps  that  was  my 
principal  motive,  who  can  tell? — I  don't  know  just 
what  piece  to  compare  with  Severance,  though  with  a 
card  it  would  be  easy.  He's  not  a  knight.  Nor  yet  a 
bishop.  We  might  call  him  a  castle.  I  hear  he's  got  one 
— which  needs  a  bit  of  doing  up  before  it  would  suit  a 
queen." 

"You  married  me  only  to  keep  Tony  Severance  from 
getting  me?" 

"That  might  have  had  something  to  do  with  it." 

"Not  for  the  million?" 

"I  leave  you  to  guess  that,  from  what  you  say  you 
know  of  me." 

"And  not  because  you  wanted  me  yourself  ?" 

"I  don't  get  much  good  from  having  you,  do  I  ?" 

"Then  it  was  like  the  dog  in  the  manger." 

Garth  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "Let  it  go  at  that  for 
to-night,  anyhow.  We  must  talk  more  softly  if  we  don't 
wish  to  keep  Bill  and  Cath  awake  in  the  next  room." 

This  warning  was  a  dash  of  cold  water ! 

"We  won't  talk  at  all,"  half  whispered  Marise.  "If 
you'll  arrange  the  screens  for  me,  I'll  rest  on  the  bed." 

There  were  two  large,  four-leaved  screens  in  the  room, 
one  in  a  corner  behind  a  sofa,  keeping  off  a  window 
draught,  one  in  front  of  the  door.  Placed  as  Garth 
placed  them,  they  formed  a  room  within  a  room,  hiding 
the  bed  from  view.  Marise  stepped  behind  this  "bar- 
ricade," as  Garth  had  called  it,  contrived  with  great 
difficulty  to  unfasten  a  complicated  family  of  tiny  hooks, 


THE  VIGIL  LIGHT  245 

wriggled  out  of  her  sparkling  dress  and  into  a  robe  de 
chambre,  turned  off  the  light  of  an  electric  candelabrum, 
turned  on  that  of  a  green-shaded  bedside  lamp,  and  lay 
down  under  a  silk  quilt. 

From  Garth's  part  of  the  room  she  heard  no  sound, 
except  when  several  electric  lights  were  switched  off, 
and  Marise  imagined  him  uncomfortably  folded  up  on 
the  sofa  which  was  far  too  small  for  what  she  called  "an 
out-size"  of  man. 

It  was  dark  in  the  room  save  for  her  bedside  lamp, 
the  shade  of  which  drank  most  of  the  light.  So  dim  was 
it,  so  still  was  it,  that  after  a  while  Marise  grew  drowsy. 

She  hadn't  meant  to  sleep  at  all,  but  she  realised  that 
Nature  was  too  strong  for  her.  Besides,  what  did  it 
matter  ?  ,  Garth  was  probably  asleep  too — and  there 
were  hours  before  dawn. 

The  girl  ceased  to  resist  the  soft  pressure  as  of  fingers 
on  her  eyelids.  They  drooped,  closed,  and — she  slept. 
By  and  by  she  dreamed.  She  dreamed  most  vividly 
of  Zelie  Marks,  as  she  had  dreamed  onco  or  twice  before. 

She — Marise — was  in  this  house  of  Mothereen's;  in 
this  very  room,  though  Garth  was  not  with  her.  Ho 
existed,  but  he  had  gone  out — or  away.  Marise  had 
taken  off  the  jewels  he  had  given  her,  and  was  laying 
them  on  a  table.  They  were  beautiful !  It  was  a  pity 
not  to  keep  them  for  her  own!  Suddenly  there  was  a 
knock  at  the  door,  and  without  waiting  for  permission 
Zelie  Marks  burst  in. 

"I've  come  for  the  jewels,"  she  announced,  in  a  hate- 
ful voice,  looking  at  Marise  with  angry,  wicked  eyes. 

"They're  not  yours,  and  you're  not  to  have  them," 
said  Marise  in  the  dream.  She  spoke  with  courage ;  but 
suddenly  she  was  afraid  of  Zelie.  She  knew  that  the 
girl  meant  to  do  her  harm.     Some  dreadful  thing  was 


246  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

going  to  happen.  But  her  voice  was  gone.  She  could 
not  cry  out.  She  couldn't  even  speak.  It  was  impos- 
sible to  move.  She  felt  like  a  bird  fascinated  by  a  snake. 
The  dream  had  become  a  nightmare. 

Zelie  saw  her  helplessness.  The  big  black  eyes  be- 
came more  and  more  evil.  The  girl  advanced  slowly, 
yet  with  set  purpose.  Without  removing  her  stare  from 
Marise's  face,  she  picked  up  the  rope  of  pearls. 

"As  you  won't  give  these  to  me,  though  Jack  wants 
me  to  have  everything  of  his,  I'm  going  to  make  you 
swallow  them,"  she  said  in  a  low  voice,  cold  as  the 
tinkle  of  ice. 

Marise  strove  with  all  her  might  to  cry  out,  "No — 
no !"  but  could  not.  She  tried  to  turn  and  dart  away 
before  Zelie  could  touch  her,  but  she  was  immovable  as 
the  pillar  of  salt  that  had  been  Lot's  wife. 

Zelie  took  a  handful  of  pearls  and  began  stuffing  them 
into  Marise's  mouth.  It  was  suffocation!  Marise 
wrenched  herself  free  of  the  frozen  spell  and  uttered  a 
shriek. 

It  waked  her ;  and  at  the  same  time  she  was  conscious 
of  another  sound — a  sound  which  brought  back  to  her 
brain  a  whirling  vision  of  things  as  they  really  were. 

She  remembered  the  screens,  and  why  they  were 
there. 

Garth  had  bounded  up  from  some  resting-place  and 
had  knocked  over  a  chair.  He  must  think,  either  that 
she  was  in  extremis,  or  else  that  she  had  cried  out  as  an 
excuse  to  bring  him  to  her.  She  saw  one  of  the  two 
screens  sway,  as  if  Garth  had  struck  against  it  inad- 
vertently. Then,  hastily  she  closed  her  eyes.  He  must 
be  made  to  realise  that  she  had  truly  screamed  in  her 
sleep,  and  that  there  was  no  horrid  coquettish  trick. 

Marise  lay  quite  still,  so  that  she  hardly  breathed; 


THE  VIGIL  LIGHT  247 

and  Garth's  steps  made  scarce  a  sound;  yet  she  knew 
that  he  had  come  round  the  screens  and  was  looking  at 
her. 

After  the  things  he  had  said,  she  was  wild  to  know 
what  that  look  was  like.  If  she  could  see  his  face  at 
that  moment,  when  she'd  just  given  him  a  fright,  she 
would  know  without  any  possible  doubt  whether  he'd 
spoken  the  plain  truth  in  hinting  (he  hadn't  exactly 
said!)  that  he  didn't  love  her  because  she  had  tried  him 
too  far.  But  she  couldn't  see  his  face  without  open- 
ing her  eyes;  and  if  she  opened  her  eyes  he'd  know 
she  was  awake.  He'd  suspect  that  she  had  screamed 
on  purpose. 

The  girl  tried  to  breathe  with  long,  gentle  sighs, 
hardly  moving  her  breast,  as  she  did  when  she  played 
the  part  of  a  sleeper  on  the  stage.  It  was  easy  enough 
there;  but  she  couldn't  be  a  good  actress  after  all,  be- 
cause she  was  unable  to  control  her  breath  now.  Her 
heart  was  beating  fast,  and  her  bosom  rose  and  fell  in 
jerks. 

A  long  time  seemed  to  pass.  Was  Garth  standing 
there  gazing  down  at  her  still,  or  had  he  tiptoed  away  ? 
Marise  simply  had  to  know!  Surely  she  could  just 
peep  from  under  those  celebrated  eyelashes  of  hers  for 
half  a  second,  without  his  catching  her  in  the  act,  if 
he  were  there  ? 

The  lashes  flickered,  and  were  still  again.  But 
Marise  had  seen.  Garth  was  there.  He  was  looking 
down  at  her.  Yet  all  her  subtleties  had  been  vain. 
She  couldn't  read  his  face.  It  was  as  inscrutable  as 
that  of  the  Sphinx,  which  she  knew  only  from  photo- 
graphs. Presently  she  heard  a  slight,  almost  indefin- 
able sound,  and  peeping  again,  saw  Garth  in  the  act 


£48  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

of  disappearing  behind  a  leaf  of  the  taller  screen.  Had 
he  caught  that  tell-tale  flicker,  or  not  ? 

Garth  went  back  to  his  darkened  corner  of  the  room, 
but  his  brain  felt  as  it  had  been  brilliantly  lit  up,  with 
a  hundred  electric  candles  suddenly  turned  on  in  it. 
They  dazzled  him.  But  he  composed  himself  outwardly 
and  lay  down  again  on  the  crampingly  short  sofa. 

He  had  taken  off  collar,  tie,  coat  and  waistcoat, 
slipping  on  instead  a  futurist  dressing-gown  which  a 
haughty  salesman  in  a  smart  shop  had  forced  upon  him 
as  "the  thing."  Zelie  would  probably  have  approved 
it.     In  any  case,  it  would  have  graced  a  Russian  ballet. 

Minutes,  hours  perhaps,  passed  before  he  felt  even 
somnolent.  But  the  ring  of  light  on  the  ceiling  above 
Marise's  concealed  lamp,  resembling  a  faint,  round 
moon  in  a  twilight  sky,  hypnotised  him.  At  last  sleep 
caught  him  like  a  wrestler,  and  downed  him  for  a 
moment.  In  a  flash  came  a  dream.  He  thought  that 
Marise  had  cried  out  again.  Then  he  waked,  in  an- 
other flash,  and  knew  that  it  was  not  true.  Vividly  he 
saw  her  face,  as  it  had  been  in  that  last  glimpse  he  had 
stolen;  sweet  as  a  rose;  lips  apart,  long  lashes  shadowing 
the  cheeks;  then — a  flicker;  and  he  saw  the  bosom  that 
had  been  shaken  all  through  the  silent  scene  with  heart- 
beats too  quick  for  those  of  a  sleeper. 

With  this  photograph  upon  his  retina,  he  deliberately 
rolled  off  the  sofa,  and  fell  with  a  bump  on  the  floor. 

Crash !  went  a  screen. 

Marise  was  beside  him. 

"Are  you  dead?"  she  gasped. 

"No.     Only  asleep,"  he  answered  with  a  yawn. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


THE  ALBUM 


THE  next  day  Garth  received  a  telegram  urging 
him  to  come  at  once  to  the  Grand  Canyon.  He 
was  needed  because  of  some  work  at  Vision  House 
which  had  been  stopped  for  his  decision. 

Marise  believed  that  he  had  had  the  message  sent  to 
himself,  and  was  grateful,  for  his  departure  relieved 
the  situation.  Later,  she  thought  differently;  but  at 
the  time  she  was  pleased  with  the  man.  She  even  gave 
him  a  little  appreciative  squeeze  of  the  hand  when  they 
said  good-bye. 

Garth  was  to  be  gone  two  days.  He  would  then 
return,  travelling  at  night,  and  after  a  few  hours  with 
Mothereen  would  take  his  wife  and  her  maid  away. 
Considering  the  circumstances,  this  was  as  good  an 
arrangement  as  could  have  been  hoped  for  by  Marise. 
His  absence,  however,  did  leave  the  house  very  dull! 
Whether  one  liked  Jack  Garth  or  not,  even  if  one  hated 
him,  his  was  a  personality  that  made  itself  missed. 

Of  course,  it  was  very  unpleasant  that  she  had  to  go 
and  live  in  his  house.  In  his  rough-hewn  fashion,  he'd 
been  rather  decent  in  some  ways,  not  abusing  the  man's 
power  he  had  over  her  as  a  woman;  still,  Marise  told 
herself  that  she  thanked  Heaven  to  be  rid  of  him.  She 
must  not  appear  too  joyous,  however,  or  Mothereen 
would  be  shocked.  So  realistic  was  the  girl's  air  of 
sadness  (helped  by  a  prospect  of  heavy  boredom),  that 

249 


250  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

the  dear  woman  attempted  the  task  of  cheering  her  up. 

"Would  ye  like  me  to  show  ye  an  album  of  photos  I 
have  of  himself  as  a  boy  and  a  growin'  lad  ?"  Mothereen 
wanted  to  know.  "He  was  never  much  on  bein'  took, 
after  he  grew  up.  But  I've  kept  all  his  letters  he  wrote 
me  from  the  Eront.  They're  great,  and  ye  can  have 
the  run  of  'em,  me  pet.  But  first  we'll  go  through  the 
album  together,  don't  ye  think  ?" 

Maris©  said  that  sh©  would  be  delighted.  And  she 
must  have  had  a  more  angelic  nature  than  she'd  sup- 
posed, because  the  thought  of  the  ordeal  left  her  un- 
ruffled. 

Mothereen  brought  the  volume  in  question — bound  in 
purple  morocco — and  a  ribbon-tied  bundle  of  letters  to 
the  girl's  sitting-room.  Then,  with  a  beaming  counten- 
ance, she  settled  herself  on  the  sofa  and  opened  the 
album  on  her  lap.  She  had  evidently  no  suspicion 
that  she  was  being  patronised  good-naturedly  by 
"Johnny's"  wife.  Indeed,  she  fully  believed  that  the 
girl  was  impatiently  waiting  a  treat. 

"Come  and  sit  down  beside  me,  Mavourneen,"  she 
said.  "That's  right !  Now  we're  cosy.  See,  this  cute 
little  photo  at  the  beginnin'  was  Johnny  when  I  had 
him  first.     Ye  know  the  story,  don't  ye  ?" 

"No-o,"  confessed  Marise.  She  could  easily  have 
given  an  evasive  answer;  but  suddenly  she  was  con- 
scious that  she  wished  to  know  the  story.  "Maj — he — 
never  told  me." 

"Never  told  ye!"  echoed  Mothereen.  "Never  told 
ye  aught  about  the  father  he's  so  proud  of,  and  all  the 
rest  ?  Why,  if  it  had  not  been  for  that  father  of  his, 
I  don't  suppose  he'd  have  gone  to  th©  war  lik©  a  shot, 
th©  way  h©  did." 

Will  you  tell  me — unless  you  think  he'd  rather  you1 


tc 


THE  ALBUM  251 

didn't  ?"  asked  Marise,  gazing  at  the  badly-taken  photo- 
graph of  a  handsome,  fearless-eyed  child  of  five  or  six, 
in  funny  little  trousers. 

"Sure,  there's  no  reason  why  he  should  mind.  The 
boy  has  nothing  to  blush  for.  It's  all  the  contrary!" 
said  Mothereen.  "And  I  will  tell  ye.  It's  right  ye 
should  hear  what  the  gossoon  fought  his  way  up  from 
to  where  he  stands  now.  Ye've  heard,  at  the  least,  that 
the  father  was  English  ?" 

"I  think  I  did  hear  him  tell  someone — not  me — that 
his  father  was  a  Yorkshireman,"  Marise  remembered. 

"He  was  that,  and  a  gentleman  besides,  an  officer  in 
the  British  Army.  His  name  was  the  same  as  the 
child's — John  Garth.  It  was  an  American  girl  he'd 
married,  a  girl  from  out  West  here.  She  went  over  to 
England  as  a  kind  of  a  nursery  governess  with  a  family 
of  rich  folks,  and  there  was  a  row — a  flare-up  of  some 
sort.  The  folks  left  her  behind  when  they  came  home, 
and  the  girl  got  engaged  to  sing  with  a  little  concert 
party,  tourin'  the  provinces.  It  was  in  Yorkshire 
Captain  Garth  saw  her,  and  fell  in  love.  He  was 
always  inventin'  something  or  other,  was  my  Johnny's 
dad:  like  father  like  son,  and  when  the  one  child  born 
to  the  pair  of  'em  was  a  toddler,  the  Captain  had  an 
accident  with  some  explosive  stuff  he  was  workin'  at. 
The  poor  young  man's  right  arm  was  blown  off,  and  his 
eyes  were  hurt.  That  meant  he  must  leave  the  army, 
,l  and  as  he  wasn't  wounded  in  the  service  of  his  country, 
not  a  red  cent  of  pension  did  he  get!  The  poor  girl 
wife  was  expectin'  a  second  child,  but  the  shock  she 
got  by  the  accident  brought  on  her  trouble  before  its 
time,  and  she  and  the  baby  died  together. 

"It  was  nip  and  tuck  that  the  Captain  didn't  die  too. 
But  he  pulled  through  somehow,  and  there  was  the  boy 


252  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

to  think  of.  When  it  turned  out  that  Government 
would  do  nothing  the  poor  man  had  a  notion  to  come  to 
this  side  of  the  world — his  dead  wife's  country.  She'd 
always  been  tellin'  him,  it  seems,  that  those  inventions 
of  his,  that  the  British  War  Office  turned  up  its  nose 
at,  might  make  his  fortune  in  the  States. 

"Well,  he  took  the  little  money  he  had  left,  and 
thought  to  try  his  luck.  But  he  was  pretty  well  done 
for,  poor  man,  and  a  big  storm  there  was,  crossin',  just 
about  put  the  finishin'  touch;  for  he  broke  his  leg 
aboard  ship." 

"Were  you  on  the  ship  ?"  Marise  asked. 

"Not  me!  'Twas  many  a  year  since  I  was  on  board 
a  ship,"  said  Mothereen.  "Me  and  my  man — Pat  was 
his  name — we  had  our  honeymoon  in  the  steerage. 
'Twas  out  to  the  West  we  came,  near  to  where  we  are 
now,  which  is  why  me  heart  is  in  the  West  always. 
But  troubles  fell  on  Pat  in  business,  and  a  friend  of 
his  invited  him  to  join  in  a  new  scheme,  back  East  in 
New  York.  The  fellow'd  been  left  a  house  there,  off 
Third  Avenue,  and  with  Pat  to  help  in  the  expense  of 
a  start,  furnishin',  advertisin'  and  the  like,  accordin'  to 
him,  they  could  coin  money  takin'  boarders.  It 
sounded  all  right  on  paper,  and  so  it  might  have  been 
in  practice,  maybe,  with  Pat  to  manage  and  me  to 
cook,  if  half  the  boarders  hadn't  slipped  off  without 
settlin'  their  bills.  But  that's  what  they  did,  the  spal- 
peens. And  if  troubles  had  been  black  out  West,  they 
was  black  and  blue  in  N'York!  This  was  the  time 
when  Captain  Oarth  came  limpin'  in  out  of  hospital, 
with  his  boy  hangin'  onto  his  hand.  He'd  seen  our 
advertisement  in  a  paper,  offerin'  cheap  board.  The 
man  looked  like  death — and  he  didn't  look  like  pay. 
But  sure,  me  heart  opened  to  the  pair  of  'em  at  first 


THE  ALBUM  253 

sight!     Ses  I  to  meself,  'If  I  was  to  have  a  child,  I'd 
want  one  the  pattern  o'  that/  " 

"What  happened  then?"  Marise  wanted  to  know, 
when  Mothereen  paused  for  her  thoughts  to  rush  back 
to  the  past.  [ 

"Just  the  things  ye  might  suppose !     We  none  of  us  \ 
had  any  luck.     There  was  no  more  doin'  for  the  inven- 
tions in  the  States  than  there'd  been  in  England.     The 
Captain  left  the  child  in  my  charge,  and  went  to  Wash- 
ington.    There  he  hung  about  the  place  till  the  last  \ 
of  his  money  was  frittered  away,  and  nothin'  to  show  - 
for  it.     But  my,  didn't  that  boy  grow  into  me  heart, 
those  days  when  he  was  like  me  own  ?     Four  years  old 
he  was,  and  to  look  at  him  or  hear  him  talk,  you'd  have  * 
said  six!     There  came  along  a  big  wave  of  'flu,  the; 
end  of  that  hard  winter,  and  my  Pat  and  Captain 
Garth  was  both  laid  low  with  the  sickness.     Pat  took 
it  from  the  Captain,  nursin'  him — and  within  a  week  m 
of  each  other  they  was  dead.     That's  how  me  Johnny 
boy  got  to  be  me  son." 

"You  were  a  saint  to  adopt  him,  when  his  father  ' 
caused  your  husband's  death,"  said  Marise. 

"Saint,  is  it  ?  Wait  till  ye  hear  the  rest  of  the  story,  . 
and  know  what  it  was  the  boy  did  for  me.  Not  much 
more  than  a  baby  he  was,  but  with  twice  the  under- 
standin'  of  many  a  grown-up  man  I've  met.  He  saw 
the  way  things  were  for  me,  with  his  wise  little  eyes, 
and  he  made  up  his  mind  to  help  when  the  time  came.  - 

"I  had  to  give  up  the  house,  I  couldn't  hold  on.  I 
sold  up  my  bits  of  things,  and  took  one  room  for  the 
two  of  us,  Johnny  and  me.  I  got  some  sewin'  to  do, 
but  'twas  in  a  neighbourhood  of  poor  folk,  and  there 
wasn't  enough  comin'  in  to  keep  bread  in  our  mouths. 
What  do  you  think  that  baby  did  then,  darlin'  ?    I'm 


254  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

sure  this  is  the  part  of  the  story  he'd  never  be  tellm* 
ye!" 

"I  can't  imagine/'  said  Marise. 

"How  he  saved  a  few  cents  I've  never  rightly  known, 
for  he  was  mum  about  it.  What  I  think  is,  he  must 
have  begged  till  he  had  a  half-dozen  nickels  or  dimes. 
Then  he  bought  newspapers,  and  sold  'em  in  the  streets. 
From  the  first  minute  he  was  a  success,  and  it's  not 
hard  to  see  why.  He  was  in  a  different  class  from  the 
poor  dirty  brats  in  the  same  business.  And  if  ye'll 
believe  it,  me  girl,  there  was  times  when  the  child  kept 
the  two  of  us  on  what  he  earned.  From  that  day  we 
never  looked  back.  He  put  spirit  into  me,  and  the 
heart  to  work.  Now,  I'll  turn  over  a  page  in  the  album, 
and  show  you  our  boy  at  the  age  of  ten.  What  d'ye 
think  of  him  ?" 

"He  doesn't  look  like  a  seller  of  newspapers,"  said 
Marise. 

"No  more  he  wasn't,  by  then.  He  and  I  had  gone 
into  the  molasses  candy  business.  We  made  the  candy 
ourselves;  and  if  I  do  say  it,  there  wasn't  its  equal  in 
New  York.  Johnny  would  have  the  stuff  wrapped  up 
in  pretty  little  packets  of  coloured  paper  tied  with  gold 
string,  and  I  tell  you,  it  went  like  smoke!  At  night, 
Johnny  attended  a  school,  and  picked  up  knowledge  as 
a  chicken  picks  up  corn. 

"Now,  here  he  is  in  the  album  again  at  fifteen.  We 
had  the  Mooney  Molasses  Candies — three  sorts — for 
sale  in  a  lot  of  shops,  and  we'd  a  little  flat  of  our  own, 
and  money  in  the  bank.  Isn't  he  a  fine  fellow  to  look 
at  there?  The  makings  of  a  man!  'Twas  when  he 
was  fifteen  that  he  began  to  study  the  note-books  his 
father  had  left,  and  to  turn  his  thoughts  to  inventions 
of  his  own.    The  first  thing  was  an  oyster-opener.    The 


THE  ALBUM  255 

second  was  a  fastener  to  keep  shoe-strings  from  untying. 
Then  there  was  a  big  leap,  and  at  eighteen  he'd  patented 
a  toy  pistol  that  fired  six  shots,  and  no  danger  in  one 
of  'em !  That  was  what  began  to  bring  real  money  in ; 
and  Johnny  said,  'Mothereen'  (he'd  called  me  that 
name  from  the  first),  'the  next  step  is  goin'  to  take  us 
out  West  to  the  place  that  you  love!'  So  it  did! 
'Twas  that  high-speed  bullet  of  his  which  won  him  the 
notice  of  the  War  Office.  It  won  him  ten  thousand 
dollars,  too;  and  on  the  strength  of  it  he  brought  me 
back  to  the  town  where  Pat  and  I  settled  first,  in  the 
happy  old  days.  But  little  did  I  dream  even  then  of 
the  destiny  ahead  of  the  boy !  I  was  lovin'  him  too 
much,  and  rememberin'  the  child  he'd  been,  to  realise 
that  by  me  side  a  real  genius  was  growin'  up.  I  might 
o'  done,  though,  if  I'd  kept  me  eyes  open,  the  way  he 
studied  and  worked,  worked  and  studied,  readin'  the 
classics  and  learnin'  languages  and  mathematics  the 
while  he'd  be  faggin'  out  some  new  invention.  But 
Johnny  was  never  the  boy  to  brag  or  talk  about  him- 
self. He  was  always  queer  in  spots,  sort  of  broodin', 
you'd  almost  say  sulky,  unless  you  knew  him,  and  a 
temper,  too;  though  never  with  me.  Then  came  his 
discovery  of  how  to  make  motor  spirit  out  of  coke. 
That  finished  buildin'  this  house  we're  in,  and  bought 
his  land  at  Grand  Canyon.  I  mean  it  did  all  that  in 
the  first  few  months.  Soon  afterwards  the  dollars 
poured  on  us  by  thousands — yes,  tens  of  thousands! 
You  sure  heard  of  the  trench  motor-tool  for  diggin',  I 
know,  because  'twas  in  all  the  English  papers  after  the 
war  had  broken  out,  and  Johnny  was  at  the  Front. 
There  was  all  that  about  his  Victoria  Cross  at  the  same 
time,  or  was  it  a  bit  before?  You  can  tell  me,  I 
guess  ?" 


256  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"It  must  have  been  before.  I  never  knew  why  he 
was  decorated,"  Marise  said. 

"He  wouldn't  tell  you  when  ye  asked?"  cried 
Mothereen,  as  certain  as  she  was  of  life  that  the  girl 
had  asked — yes,  begged  and  prayed! 

"He  never  did  tell." 

"Well,  ye  shall  read  the  newspaper  paragraphs  yer- 
self — American  papers,  mind  ye! — for  he  never  sent 
me  the  English  ones,  and  I  got  what  I  got  through  his 
friends.  I've  columns  cut  out.  And  with  them  there's 
the  praise  of  the  trench  machine,  and  the  new  kind  of 
steel — Radium  steel,  he  calls  it — that  they  say  will 
make  him  a  millionaire  in  a  year  or  two." 

"A  millionaire !"  echoed  Marise.  "I  thought  he  was 
poor !" 

"Poor!  Ye  thought  that — yet  ye  married  him — 
you,  who  could  get  anyone  ye  liked,  from  Princes  of  the 
Blood  down  to  Cotton  Kings!  You  darlin 7  Well, 
ye'll  have  yer  reward.  The  boy  is  not  poor.  He's 
rich — what  anybody  would  call  rich." 

"Then  why "  Marise  burst  out,  and  stopped  her- 
self. If  she  hadn't  bitten  back  the  words,  they  would 
have  tumbled  out:  "Why  did  he  marry  me?" 

She  felt  very  small  in  spirit  and  mean  of  soul  com- 
pared with  humble  Mothereen,  whose  faith  and  loyalty 
had  bridged  the  dark  years  with  gold. 

Why  had  a  man  brought  up  by  Mothereen  wanted  to 
play  the  dummy  hand  in  this  ridiculous  game  of 
marriage  ? 


CHAPTEK  XXXII 

THE  BEEEAVED  ONE 

WHEN"  his  ship  docked,  two  telegrams  were  handed 
to  Lord  Severance.     The  first  which  he  opened 
was  from  Mrs.  Sorel,  and  he  glanced  through  it  eagerly. 

"Everything  going  as  well  as  could  be  expected,  but 
your  return  and  final  completion  of  arrangement  eagerly 
awaited. — Mary  S." 

This  was  not  quite  as  reassuring,  somehow,  as  the 
sender  intended  it  to  be.  There  seemed  to  be  a  hidden 
meaning  behind  the  words,  which  twanged  the  wrong 
chords  of  Severance's  emotions.  Hastily  he  tore  open 
the  second  envelope,  hoping  to  find  a  message  from 
Marise  herself.  But  the  signature  was  "Constantine 
Ionides."  Then  Severance  read  with  horrified,  in- 
credulous eyes,  "(Enone  died  suddenly  last  night  of 
heart  failure." 

For  a  moment  Tony  did  not  understand  all  that  the 
news  would  mean  for  him.  (Enone  dead!  Well,  he 
was  free,  at  least!  The  hateful  farce  would  not  have 
to  be  gone  through.  He  could  sail  for  New  York  again 
in  a  few  days. 

But  a  shock  of  realisation  broke  the  thought.  Not  to 
marry  (Enone  meant  that  he  would  not  get  his  uncle's 
promised  wedding  gift.     A  fortune  was  lost ! 

The  blow  was  a  staggering  one.     He  felt  its  full 

257 


258  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

force,  as  if  he  had  abruptly  turned  to  face  a  gale  from 
the  east. 

Wasn't  it  just  his  luck?  Didn't  everything  always 
go  like  that  for  him  in  life?  Almost  to  lay  his  hand 
on  the  things  he  wanted,  to  see  them  slip  away  from 
under  his  fingers ! 

The  journey  to  London  was  interminable.  He  suf- 
fered so  much  during  the  miserable  hours  that  it  seemed 
as  if  he  must  have  the  consolation  of  some  reward  at 
the  end — must  learn  that  (Enone  hadn't  died  after  all, 
or  that,  better  still,  Uncle  Constantino  intended  in  any 
case  to  give  him  the  money  which  should  have  been  his. 

But  there  was  no  brightening  of  the  gloom  for  him. 
In  fact,  things  were  rather  worse  at  the  end  of  the 
journey,  if  possible,  than  he  had  expected.  Uncle 
Oonstantine's  heart  was  not  softened  by  sorrow.  On 
the  contrary,  he  turned  upon  Severance  in  a  rage  and 
blamed  him  for  (Enone's  death. 

The  girl  had  faded  visibly  after  her  cousin  left  Eng- 
land. She  knew  one  or  two  people  who  thought  it  for 
her  good  to  be  told  that  Tony's  "mission"  was  to  follow 
Marise  Sorel.  (Enone  had  subscribed  for  several  Ameri- 
can papers,  in  order  to  read  of  Lord  Severance's  doings 
on  the  other  side.  One  was  a  weekly  gossip  rag,  and 
she  had  been  turning  over  a  copy  when  she  died.  In 
fact,  the  thing  was  found  in  her  hand,  open  at  a  page 
where  Severance's  name  was  coupled  in  a  sneering  way 
with  that  of  Marise  Sorel.  The  actress  was  said  to 
have  jilted  him  for  a  Major  Garth,  V.C.,  of  his  own 
regiment,  and  the  rumour  was  reported  that  out  of 
pique  Severance  would  now  marry  his  rich  Greek  cousin 
in  London. 

"It  was  enough  to  kill  her — and  it  did !"  said  Ionides. 
"Damn  you,  Severance!     I  wish  to  Heaven  you  were 


THE  BEREAVED  ONE  259 

dead  instead  of  my  poor  girl  who  loved  you.  And  I 
wish  to  hell  I  could  upset  her  will  in  your  favour.  I 
can't  do  that.  But  not  a  shilling  of  my  money  will 
you  ever  get." 

So  OEnone  had  left  him  her  own  private  fortune,  as 
she  had  told  him  she  meant  to  do  if  she  died !  That 
was  something — probably  the  equivalent  of  the  pledged 
million  dollars — not  allowing  for  the  vile  exchange. 
But  of  what  use  was  one  million  dollars  to  him,  in  his 
present  plight  ?  The  least  he  could  do  with  was  double 
that  sum. 

To  carry  out  the  bargain  with  Garth  and  free  Marise 
he  would  have  to  hand  over  a  cool  million.  But  how 
was  he  going  to  pay  even  his  most  pressing  debts  and 
live — much  less  marry — if  he  cleaned  himself  out  of 
his  whole  inheritance  at  one  stroke? 

On  the  other  hand,  if  he  kept  the  million  doubtless 
coming  to  him  by  GEnone's  will,  he  would  have  nothing 
to  offer  Garth.  The  whole  plan  would  be  a  colossal 
failure:  worse  than  a  failure — a  catastrophe.  Garth 
would  stick  to  Marise  from  motives  of  spite,  if  nothing 
worse.  The  girl's  life  would  be  ruined,  and  she  would 
be  lost  to  him  unless  he  killed  Garth,  or  unless  the  man 
laid  himself  open  to  divorce  proceedings — which  was 
the  very  thing  he  would  be  careful  not  to  do — unless 
well  paid. 

Of  course,  a  woman  could  divorce  a  man  for  incom- 
patibility of  temper  and  things  of  that  sort  in  one  or 
two  states  out  West,  in  America,  Severance  had  vaguely 
heard.  But  a  hocus  pocus  affair  of  that  sort  wouldn't 
be  considered  legal  in  England,  and  Marise  could  never, 
in  such  circumstances,  become  the  Countess  of  Sever- 
ance, even  if  they  had  money  to  marry  on — which  they 
wouldn't  have! 


260  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Severance  had  not  known  or  guessed  how  the  girl  had 
said  to  herself  that,  if  there  were  a  question  of  jilting, 
she  wished  to  be  the  jilter,  not  the  jilted.  Had  he 
known,  he  would  have  felt  even  more  bitter  against 
Fate.  As  it  was,  he  pitied  Marise,  although  the  dis- 
asters which  had  fallen  on  them  both  came  through  her 
impulsiveness.  If  only  she  hadn't  rushed  off  and  mar- 
ried John  Garth  on  an  hour's  notice,  that  beastly  para- 
graph would  never  have  been  printed,  and  (Enone  would 
still  be  alive.  It  had  been  foolish,  rash,  passionately 
mistaken.  Severance  felt  hotly.  But  there  was  little 
resentment  in  his  pain.  Se  blamed  himself  almost,  if 
not  quite,  as  much  as  Marise,  and  all  that  was  Greek 
in  him  accepted,  while  it  writhed  at,  the  fatality. 

When  QEnone's  funeral  was  over  and  the  contents  of 
her  will  known,  the  legacy  reached  the  amount  promised. 
But — the  exchange,  the  awful  exchange  between  Eng- 
land and  America!  And  the  equally  appalling  death 
duties!  Even  if  Severance  decided  to  plunge,  and 
offer  all  to  Garth,  the  sum  would  fall  far  short  of  a 
million  dollars.  Besides,  he  couldn't  offer  all,  or  nearly 
all.     He  was  dunned  on  every  side. 

There  were  moments — moments  when  he  was  most 
Greek — when  Tony  said  to  himself  that  he  would  have 
to  leave  Marise  to  her  fate.  She  had  made  her  bed. 
She  must  lie  on  it.  He  would  stay  in  England,  pay 
his  debts,  and  be  extremely  comfortable  on  what  was 
left  over  out  of  (Enone's  gift.  But  there  were  other 
moments,  burning  moments,  fanned  to  molten  fire  by 
Mrs.  Sorel's  letters  and  telegrams.  He  couldn't  give 
up  Marise!  Something  must  be  done.  And  at  last, 
through  the  red  mists  he  saw  a  way  to  bluff  himself  out 
of  the  depths. 

"Coming  back  at  once,"  he  cabled  Mary  Sorel  at  Bell 


THE  BEREAVED  ONE  261 

Towers^  and  started  the  same  day  (the  fourteenth  day 
after  (Enone's  funeral)  in  a  cabin  given  up  at  the 
eleventh  hour  by  its  purchaser. 

The  legacy  was  not  yet  in  his  hands,  nor  would  it 
be  for  months  to  come,  but  Severance  had  been  able 
to  borrow  a  substantial  sum  on  the  certainty  of  his 
prospects.  The  voyage  was  stormy,  and  not  being  a 
good  sailor,  he  arrived  in  New  York  a,  wreck.  He  had 
courage  enough,  however,  to  start  at  once  for  Los 
Angeles,  where  he  meant  to  see  his  friend  and  well- 
wisher,  Mrs.  Sorel.  With  her  counsel  he  would  con- 
solidate his  plans,  and  start  the  campaign  against  Garth. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 


THE  VISITORS'  BOOK 


OH,  Tony,  what  a  downfall  of  our  castle  in  the 
air!"  were  Mary's  first  words,  as  she  held  out 
her  hands  to  Severance.  "This  beautiful  Bell  Towers, 
where  we  hoped  we  should  be  so  happy — you  and 
Marise  and  I — wasted — wasted!  Our  dream  broken! 
The  best  prospect  for  my  poor  child  now  is,  that  she 
can  go  back  to  the  stage  and  begin  again  where  she 
left  off." 

Severance  had  come  to  her  for  comfort,  but  found 
he  had  to  give  instead  of  get  it. 

"Oh,  I  say!  Things  aren't  as  bad  as  all  that!"  he 
protested.  "Tell  me  exactly  how  matters  are,  so  far 
as  you  know,  with  Marise.  Then  I'll  tell  you  how  they 
are  with  me.  You  must  remember,  I'm  not  without 
resources — or  ideas." 

They  were  standing  together  on  a  rose-hung  loggia, 
looking  over  a  fountain  terrace  where  oranges  shone  in 
the  sun  and  a  hundred  flowers  poured  forth  perfume 
like  a  hymn  of  praise.  As  Mary  Sorel  had  said,  the 
place  was  a  perfect  setting  for  romance.  But  all  hope 
wasn't  over  yet! 

Tea  was  brought  to  the  loggia;  and  when  the  maid 
had  gone,  Mary  began  to  tell  Severance — not  only  the 
news  he  wanted  to  hear,  but,  alas!  much  news  that 
made  sorry  hearing  indeed. 

"Celine  writes  me,  as  often  as  Marise  does,"  Mrs. 

262 


THE  VISITORS'  BOOK  263 

Sorel  explained,  a  little  shamefacedly.  "I  arranged 
that  she  should  do  so.  Marise  is  odd  in  some  ways, 
you  know.  Not  secretive  exactly.  No.  But  she  has 
sudden,  unexpected  sort  of  reserves.  And  I  wanted 
an  unbiased  account  of  affairs,  from — well,  from  more 
than  one  point  of  view.  They've  left  Albuquerque, 
near  where  the  adopted  mother  lives,  and  gone  to  the 
place  I  wrote  you  about — the  Grand  Canyon.  At  least, 
Garth's  property  isn't  far  from  the  Canyon.  You  can 
see  it  from  the  windows.  'Vision  House,'  he  calls  the 
place;  but  I  think  it's  more  because  getting  the  land 
was  the  fulfilment  of  some  old  dream  than  because  of 
the  view.  Marise  says  that's  wonderful,  though — the 
view,  I  mean." 

"You  can't  expect  me  to  care  about  the  view  from 
Garth's  damned  house,  where  he  keeps  Marise  a 
prisoner!"  exploded  Severance. 

"No,  dear  boy — forgive  me !  I  was  wandering  from 
the  point,  thinking  of  her  letters.  They  wander,  too. 
She  tells  me  all  kinds  of  things  about  the  place.  She 
says  it's  amazing.  She  talks  more  of  everything  else 
than  herself." 

"What  does  she  say  about  Garth?" 

"Not  more  than  she  can  help.  But — oh,  one  thing ! 
Tony,  she  tells  me  he's  rich — very  rich." 

"Bot !     He  wants  her  to  believe  that." 

"No.  Someone  else  told  her,  not  he.  And  the 
house,  though  it's  simple,  is  the  house  of  a  rich  man,  she 
says.  I  should  have  been  there  by  this  time,  if  you 
hadn't  wired  me  you  were  coming  here  to  get  my  advice 
before — before  deciding  what  to  do  next.  And — be- 
sides, I  was  a  little  delayed  by  the  visit  of  a  charming 
Comtesse  de  Sorel  who  came  to  Los  Angeles,  and 
thought  she  might  be  distantly  related  to  poor  dear 


264  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Louis.  We  fagged  up  the  family  tree  together.  It 
appears  that  Louis  just  missed  being  a  comte  himself, 
by  descent,  because  of — ah — a  family  accident:  a  mar- 
riage that  didn't  take  place.  Think  of  the  difference 
to  us  if " 

"I'm  thinking  of  the  difference  to  me  because  of  a 
marriage  that  did  take  place!"  Severance  cut  her  short. 
"I  shall  start  for  the  Grand  Canyon  at  once.  I  suppose 
there's  an  hotel  there." 

"Marise  says  there's  a  dream  of  an  hotel,  close  to  the 
abyss,  or  whatever  you  call  it.  The  name  is  El  Tovar, 
after  some  old  Spanish  general  who  seems  to  have  been 
even  more  of  a  brute  than  Garth.  You'll  go  there — 
naturally.  Yet  I  thought  from  what  you  said  that  all 
was  over — that  you  couldn't  pay  Garth,  and " 

"I'll  do  something!  You  don't  suppose  I'm  going 
to  stand  quietly  by  and  leave  him  in  possession,  do 
you?" 

"Well,  he's  not  exactly  in  possession.  To  put  it  like 
that  is  to  exaggerate " 

"He's  got  the  legal  power  of  a  husband  over  Marise, 
and,  one  way  or  another,  he'll  have  to  be  kicked  out!" 

"That,  at  least,  will  be  something  to  the  good — if  you 
succeed,  dear  boy.  But  this  terrible  disappointment 
over  the  money  .  .  .  What  do  you  think  of  doing  ?" 

Severance  put  into  words  what  he  thought  of  doing. 
Mums  listened  earnestly,  weighing  each  pro  and  con  as 
he  talked.  For  a  wonder,  she  didn't  interrupt.  It  was 
only  when  he  had  finished  and  awaited  an  opinion  that 
she  spoke. 

"Very  good !  Very  good  indeed !"  she  praised  him. 
"It  seems  to  me  that  you've  analysed  the  man's  char- 
acter, and  formed  your  plan  on  the  analysis.  Marise 
— ah,  well,  she's  more  complicated  than  he  is,  of  course! 


THE  VISITORS'  BOOK  265 

But  I  think  this  idea  of  yours  will  appeal  to  her 
romantic  side.     Like  all  girls,  she  is  romantic." 

"Everything  depends  upon  how  she  feels  towards 
me,"  said  Severance.  "She  did  care  a  little — once. 
You  don't  think  that  what  I — what's  happened  has 
changed  her?" 

"I  don't  see  why  it  should  have  done,"  answered 
Mary.     "After  all,  she  consented." 

"I'm  afraid  your  influence  was  for  something  in 
that!" 

"Naturally  a  mother  has  influence.  But  Marise's 
mind  is  her  own.  She's  very  individual.  Besides,  the 
time  is  so  short  since  then." 

Yes,  Mums  was  right  there !  The  time  was  short — 
very  short  Only  a  few  weeks  had  passed  since  the  day 
when  Marise  had  been  persuaded  to  accept  the  first 
Great  Plan,  though  it  felt  more  like  several  years.  She 
couldn't  have  changed — unless  association  with  a  man 
like  Garth  had  made  her  value  Severance  more  than 
ever. 

The  one  amendment  Mary  had  to  make  was  that 
she  should  travel  with  Tony,  and  be  on  the  spot  to 
help  in  the  carrying  out  of  this  new,  second  plan.  But 
her  suggestion  was  received  with  an  ill  grace.  "I  want 
to  do  it  all  on  my  own,"  he  objected.  "If  Marise  is 
romantic,  as  you  say  she  is,  it  would  spoil  the  whole 
show  to  have  her  mother  in  the  background.  No, 
what's  got  to  be  done  I  want  to  do  myself.  You  must 
wait  here.  I'll  bring  her  to  you  when  I  can,  if  things 
turn  out  the  way  I  expect.  Anyhow,  you  trust  her 
to  me,  don't  you  ?" 

"Of  course,  dear  Tony,"  Mums  assured  him.  Her 
voice  didn't  sound  quite  sincere,  but  then,  it  seldom 
did,  unless  she  was  in  a  temper.     And  after  all,  Sever- 


266  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

ance  didn't  care  a  hang  whether  she  trusted  him  or 
not,  so  long  as  she  did  not  interfere.  The  mother  of 
Marise  bored  him  with  her  pretensions  and  affectations, 
though  she  was  useful  at  times;  and  in  the  future — 
that  future  which  he  hoped  to  share  with  Marise — he 
didn't  intend  to  see  a  great  deal  of  Mrs.  Sorel. 

Bell  Towers  was  as  beautiful  as  it  had  been  described, 
and  it  was  his  own  for  the  next  few  months.  But 
weary  as  he  was,  Severance  left  the  place  that 
night,  taking  a  stateroom  in  the  train  for  Williams — 
"Williams"  being  the  prosaically-named  junction  for 
perhaps  the  most  romantic  place  in  the  world,  the  Grand 
Canyon. 

•  •••••• 

Getting  out  at  the  small  station  Severance  saw  no 
Canyon  at  first.  It  couldn't  be  so  huge  or  wonderful 
as  people  said,  he  thought,  and  anyhow,  he  didn't  care 
for  scenery — especially  now.  There  was  a  pine  wood, 
and  ascending  out  of  it  for  a  short  distance  he  came  to 
the  hotel — a  glorified  loghouse,  it  was — such  a  loghouse 
as  the  Geni  of  the  Lamp  might  have  created  for  Aladdin 
by  request.  It  was  very  big  and  very  beautiful.  Even 
Severance,  tired  and  out  of  temper,  couldn't  help  ad- 
mitting its  charm.  Then,  on  the  plateau  of  the  hotel, 
above  the  wood,  he  found  himself  gazing  straight  down 
into  the  canyon,  and  far  across  a  gulf  of  gold  and  rose. 

The  man  was  amazed,  almost  stunned,  for  a  moment. 
Constitutionally  he  dreaded  great  heights  and  depths, 
and  though  the  place  was  stupendously  magnificent,  the 
moment  his  eyes  saw  its  majesty  Severance  longed  to 
escape  from  it.  With  relief,  he  turned  his  back  upon 
the  flaming  rocks  and  sapphire  depths,  and  almost  ran 
into  the  hotel. 


THE  VISITORS'  BOOK  267 

There  was  a  vast,  low-ceilinged  hall,  with  just  the 
right  sort  of  furniture,  and  an  odd  invention — a  cross 
between  hammocks  and  hanging  sofas — suspended  here 
and  there  by  chains  from  the  roof.  In  these  things 
girls  sat;  and  there  were  several  extremely  handsome 
young  men  lounging  about,  dressed  like  cowboys.  Sev- 
erance caught  snatches  of  conversation  about  ponies, 
and  the  "long  trail"  and  the  "short  trail."  Everyone 
had  either  just  made  the  descent  into  the  canyon,  or  in* 
tended  to  make  it;  but  Severance  had  no  wish  for  the 
adventure  which  brought  most  people  to  this  abode 
of  wonders. 

The  hotel,  it  appeared,  was  nearly  full,  but  there 
were  two  or  three  rooms  free  for  that  night,  and  Tony 
engaged  one.  He  then  inquired  the  way  and  the  dis- 
tance to  "Vision  House." 

"Oh,  Major  Garth's!"  exclaimed  the  hotel  clerk. 
"It's  about  a  mile  or  a  mile  and  a  half  from  here.  It's 
on  the  edge  of  the  pine  forest — has  just  a  group  of 
big  trees  between  it  and  the  canyon — not  enough  to  hide 
the  view,  though.  Some  think  the  trees  improve  it — 
make  a  sort  of  frame.  You  can  walk,  easily.  But  I 
saw  Major  Garth  in  the  hotel  half  an  hour  ago,  with  a 
friend  who's  convalescing  here  after  being  ill.  I'm 
sure  he's  not  gone  yet.     I  can  send  and  see  if  he " 

"Please  don't  do  that!"  Severance  broke  in.  "I 
am — a  relative  of  Mrs.  Garth,  and  I  have  a  message  to 
deliver  from  her  mother.  There's  no  need  to  disturb 
Major  Garth  if  he's  with  a  friend." 

Severance  had  intended  to  bathe,  change  into  fresh 
clothes,  and  have  a  long,  cool  drink — the  drink  of  his 
life — before  starting  out  to  call  at  Vision  House.  He 
could  thus  have  been  at  his  best,  and  have  felt  sure 


268  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

of  doing  himself  justice  in  any  ordeal  lie  might  be 
destined  to  go  through.  But  with  the  certain  knowl- 
edge that  Garth  was  out  of  the  way — perhaps  only  for 
a  short  time — it  would  have  been  tempting  Providence 
to  delay  for  one  unnecessary  second. 

He  inquired  just  how  to  go,  and  vetoed  the  suggestion 
that  he  should  first  look  at  his  room. 

"If  you'll  register,  I'll  ring  for  a  chap  to  show  you 
where  you  start  from/'  said  the  clerk,  pushing  a  big 
book  forward  and  handing  the  guest  a,  pen. 

"Earl  of  Severance,"  Tony  wrote,  expecting  to  see 
the  man  look  impressed,  but  no  such  emotion  was  visi- 
ble. Instead,  he  turned  back  a  few  pages  to  show  the 
signature  of  an  Indian  rajah  and  a  Scottish  duke.  A 
mere  earl  looked  small  fry  compared  with  them! 

On  the  same  page  with  the  duke,  Severance  happened 
to  catch  sight  of  a  name  which  was  vaguely  familiar  to 
him,  and  he  kept  the  book  open  to  refresh  his  memory. 

"Miss  Zelie  Marks/'  he  repeated  to  himself.  "Now 
where  have  I  heard  .  .  ." 

Then,  suddenly,  he  knew. 

Zelie  Marks's  face  rose  before  his  mind,  and  he  re- 
called where  he  had  seen  it  last — recalled  also  a  look 
he  had  caught  in  a  pair  of  handsome  eyes  fixed  upon 
Garth  the  day  of  the  first  visit. 

Mrs.  Sorel  had  tried  to  send  the  two  off  together, 
and  Severance  had  said  to  himself,  "That  couple  know 
each  other  pretty  well.  The  girl's  in  love  with  the 
fellow!" 

So  she  was  out  West,  at  this  hotel,  close  to  Garth's 
house!  Why?  What  did  it  mean?  It  must  mean 
something.  .  .  .  Did  Marise  know?  .  .  .  Had  Miss 
Marks  been  brought  here  purposely  to  give  the  wished- 


THE  VISITORS5  BOOK  269 

for — the  arranged-f or — excuse  for  a  divorce  ?  Or  was 
the  reason  for  her  presence  more  subtle  and  more  com- 
plicated ? 

Severance  felt  excited,  as  if  he  had  picked  up  some- 
thing of  unexpected  value. 


CHAPTEK  XXXIV 


THE  TERRACE 


M  ARISE  stood  on  the  high  terrace  which  looked 
towards  the  rose-and-gold  gulf  of  the  Canyon. 
Gazing  out,  between  the  dark  slim  trunks  of  pines,  she 
saw  the  sunlight  moving  slowly  from  rock  to  rock.  "It's 
like  stray  sheep  of  the  golden  fleece,"  she  thought,  "be- 
ing herded  by  an  invisible  shepherd  to  join  the  flock." 

Yes,  the  moving  gleams  were  all  massed  together 
now.  But  they  were  travelling  on.  Suddenly  they 
had  ceased  to  be  a  flock  of  sheep.  They  were  shining 
bricks,  built  into  a  citadel. 

"In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan  a  stately  palace  dome 
decree,"  Marise  quoted  to  herself. 

How  astonishing  that  so  marvellous  a  place  had 
existed  for  thousands  upon  thousands  of  years,  and  she 
had  hardly  heard  of  it,  until  John  Garth  had  brought 
her  to  this  house  of  his ! 

"Vision  House"  was  the  right  name  for  it.  Garth 
hadn't  meant  it  like  that — or  if  he  had,  he'd  not  told 
her  so ! — but  one  had  visions  here.  One  couldn't  think 
little  ordinary,  foolish  thoughts.  Life  seemed  to  be 
upon  its  highest  plane,  and  whether  one  wished  to  do 
so  or  not,  one  had  to  try  and  reach  that  plane.  One 
wanted  to  be  at  one's  best,  to  be  "in  the  picture" — 
and  the  best  must  be  very  good.     It  must  even  be  noble. 

Whoever  had  designed  Vision  House  and  chosen  its 
furnishings  had  felt  that.     There  were  great  windows 

270 


THE  TERRACE  271 

bowed  out  in  generous  eagerness  towards  the  Canyon. 
There  were  wide  loggias,  upheld  by  clear-cut,  pale  stone 
pillars.  In  the  rooms  were  no  brilliant  colours  to  jar 
with  the  rainbow  glory  just  beyond  the  delicate  green 
veil  of  pines.  The  curtains  of  grey  or  cream  fell  in 
soft,  straight  lines  that  framed  a  glowing  picture — 
rocks  of  every  fantastic  form  and  flaming  colour,  under 
the  blue  of  heaven:  rocks  like  castles  carved  of  coral 
and  studded  with  lapis  lazuli:  statue  rocks  of  trans- 
parent amethyst,  or  emerald,  glittering  where  the  sun 
touched  them  or  fading  to  the  smoky  blue  of  star-sap- 
phires as  the  shadows  crept  up  from  the  bottom  of  the 
vast  bowl. 

There  was  an  organ  in  one  of  the  rooms.  Garth  had 
thought  that  the  finest  piano  in  the  world  would  be  too 
tinkling  a  thing  so  near  the  thrilling  silence  of  the 
Canyon.  He  could  play  the  great  instrument  himself. 
She  wouldn't  have  believed  it,  if  she  had  not  heard 
the  music  as  she  walked  alone  on  the  terrace  by  moon- 
light, and  had  gone  to  peep  in  at  the  long,  open  window. 
How  he  could  play ! — though  he  said  casually,  when  she 
asked  him,  "Oh,  I  wanted  to  do  it,  so  I  taught  myself. 
I  hear  things  in  my  head.  I  like  to  make  them  come 
out."     A  queer  fellow ! 

In  the  library  there  were  only  books  which  Garth 
thought  "worthy  of  the  Canyon."  But  in  her  room 
there  were  a  few  French  novels.  It  was  the  one  place 
in  the  house,  too,  where  there  were  pretty,  frivolous 
decorations  such  as  a  Parisian  beauty  of  the  seven- 
teenth, or  an  American  of  the  twentieth,  century  would 
love.  That  was  what  he  thought  of  her!  She  would 
crave  such  surroundings  at  the  Grand  Canyon,  as  well 
as  in  New  York  or  London!  She,  and  no  one  else 
whom  he  had  ever  planned  to  bring  here ! 


272  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

When  Marise  thought  of  that  room,  and  the  differ- 
ence between  it  and  all  the  others,  she  felt — -not  angry, 
for  one  couldn't  feel  angry  for  small  reasons,  close  to 
the  greatness  of  the  Canyon, — no,  not  angry,  but 
pained,  and — wistful. 

She  was  wistful  because  she  could  not  help  seeing 
that  the  things  Garth  must  hastily  have  ordered  for  her 
pleasure  were  actually  suited  to  her  type,  her  person- 
ality, and  she  had  growing  pains  of  the  spirit  which 
made  her  long  to  climb  high  and  higher,  out  of  her- 
self. Somehow  that  room  seemed  to  represent  herself: 
soft  and  vaguely  sweet;  pretty,  perfumed,  charming, 
fantastic  and — forgetable.  How  should  Garth  have 
known  that  she  would  suddenly  become  a  different  self, 
irradiated  by  the  sublime  glory  of  this  place?  Why, 
even  she  hadn't  known  it,  until  she  had  begun  to  feel 
the  change!  And  it  had  started  at  sight  of  the  dif- 
ference between  those  other,  nobly  simple  rooms,  which 
somehow  matched  the  Canyon,  and  hers  which  child- 
ishly laughed  in  its  face. 

Or — had  Garth  expected  her  to  change,  under  the 
influence,  which  was  like  the  influence  of  all  the  gods, 
and  wanted  her  to  feel  the  difference  as  she  was  feeling 
it  now? 

As  she  asked  herself  this  question  a  pretty,  half-breed 
Mexican  maid  flitted  out  upon  the  terrace  and  an- 
nounced "Ze  Earl  of  Sev'rance." 

Marise  started.  She  need  not  have  been  surprised. 
She  ought  to  have  known  (having  heard  of  GEnone's 
death)  that  any  day  might  bring  Tony  to  her.  But  the 
truth  was  that,  for  the  time — quite  a  long  time — she 
had  forgotten  all  about  him. 

He  didn't  belong  to  the  Grand  Canyon!     But  sud- 


THE  TERRACE  273 

denly  she  felt  a  desire  to  see  what  lie  would  be  like, 
confronting  it. 

"Show  Lord  Severance  out  here/'  she  directed  the 
maid.  And  then,  between  the  moment  when  the  girl 
turned  her  back,  and  the  moment  when  Tony  stepped 
through  an  open  window-door  of  the  drawing-room, 
Marise  had  to  realise  that  she  faced  a  crisis — had  to 
prepare  for  it. 

The  red-gold  light  that  always  came  from  the  Canyon 
like  flame  made  Severance  seem  to  have  deep  mauve 
rings  under  his  eyes,  an  appearance  which  gave  him  a 
dissipated  look.  She  began  by  not  thinking  him  as 
deadly  handsome  as  she  had  always  thought  him  in 
London  and  sometimes  in  New  York.  No,  certainly  he 
didn't  go  well  with  Canyons  and  things  like  that !  But, 
of  course,  he  was  tired.  He  had  travelled  fast,  and  a 
very  long  way — to  meet  Tier.  She  must  remember  this 
in  his  favour. 

He  didn't  glance  through  the  trees  at  the  dazzling 
glory.  He'd  had  enough  and  too  much  of  the  old 
Canyon!  He  looked  straight  at  Marise.  And  he 
walked  straight  to  her,  seizing  both  her  hands,  which 
resisted  a  little,  then  thought  better  of  it  and  welcomed 
him. 

"Poor  Tony!"  she  breathed. 

"Not  'poor  Tony,'  now  I  see  you  again,"  he  said. 
"Marise,  you're  more  beautiful  than  ever.  You're  the 
most  beautiful  thing  on  this  globe.  Where  can  we  go, 
where  a  lot  of  huge  windows  won't  be  glaring  at  us  like 
bulging  eyes  ?" 

"There's  nobody  to  glare  through  them,"  answered 
Marise.     "My — he — isn't  at  home." 

"I  know,"  said  Severance.  "That's  why  I  hurried 
to  you  without  stopping  even  to  bathe  and  change.     I 


274  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

wanted  a  talk  with  you  before  thrashing  things  out  with 
Garth.  'Wanted'  ?  That  isn't  the  word !  I  thirsted, 
I  burned  for  it.  He's  not  in  the  house,  but  servants  are. 
Marise,  I've  travelled  six  thousand  miles,  hardly  resting 
— just  for  this  moment — and  others  to  follow — better 
moments.  Give  me  one  of  the  better  ones  now.  I  de- 
serve a  reward.  And  I  can't  take  it  here  on  this  beastly 
terrace." 

Marise  suddenly  realised  that  nothing  in  the  world 
would  move  her  from  the  terrace.  She  was  glad  of  the 
window-eyes.  They  were  her  protectors  against — 
against — the  man  she  had  loved. 

The  words  spoke  themselves  in  her  head.  She  heard 
them.  She  was  surprised  at  them.  Had  loved! 
Didn't  she  love  Tony  Severance  now  ?  If  not,  why  had 
she  done  all  that  she  had  done — so  many  wild,  reckless 
things?  It  seemed  that  she  was  asking  the  question 
not  of  herself,  but  of  the  Canyon.  The  Canyon  was 
like  God.  In  the  glittering,  flaming,  blue-shadowed 
depths  of  it  was  knowledge  of  Everything. 

"I  think  we  must  stay  here,"  she  said.  "There  is 
no  other  place  where  we  can  very  well  go.  Would  you 
— like  to  sit  down  on  that  seat  by  the  wall  ?" 

"What  I  would  like  is  to  kneel  at  your  feet  with  my 
arms  round  your  waist  and  my  head  on  your  breast — 
your  dear,  divine  breast,"  answered  Severance. 

"Well — you  can't!"  she  panted.  "Tony,  be  sensi- 
ble!" She  sat  down  hastily,  and  Severance  dropped 
beside  her  on  the  velvet-cushioned  stone  seat.  He  sat 
very  close  to  the  girl,  and  she  edged  slightly  away. 

As  she  did  so,  he  followed  until  she  was  pressed  into 
the  corner  of  the  bench.  He  laid  his  arm  along  the 
back  of  the  seat,  and  pressed  her  thinly-covered  shoulder. 

"Please  don't!"  she  whispered. 


THE  TERRACE  275 

Severance  laughed  out — a  bitter  laugh.  "This  is  the 
way  you  greet  me  after  all  I've  gone  through  to  get  to 
you — and  to  get  you!"  he  said.  "You  know,  I  am 
going  to  get  you." 

Marise  did  not  answer.  She  knew  nothing  of  the 
kind.  All  she  knew  was,  quite  suddenly,  that  there 
was  no  longer  any  doubt  in  her  mind  on  one  subject. 
She  did  not  love  Tony!  She  was  sorry  for  him,  and 
sorry  for  herself,  and  sorry  for  everything  in  the  world. 
But  she  did  not  love  him.  She  disliked  having  him 
touch  her. 

"You  do  know  it,  don't  you  ?"  he  insisted. 

"No,  I  don't,"  she  stammered.  "There — there's 
nothing  to  know." 

"Are  you  acting  a  part  with  me  ?"  Severance  flung  at 
her.  "Or  what  has  come  over  you,  Marise?  One 
would  think  you  in  reality  the  virtuous  married  woman, 
keeping  the  tertium  quid  at  arm's  length " 

"Well,  I  am  a  married  woman.  And— and  I'm  not 
tznvirtuous !"  she  defied  him,  through  her  heart-beats. 
"Things  have  changed,  Tony " 

"Why — because  I've  got  a  million  dollars  less  than 
you  expected  me  to  have?" 

The  girl  sprang  to  her  feet,  tingling  and  trembling. 
Severance  jumped  up  also,  and  belted  her  slim  waist 
with  his  hot  hands.  He  thought  that  this  was  the  way 
to  regain  her — that  by  grasping  her  body  he  might  seize 
her  elusive  spirit.  It  was  all  that  Marise  could  do 
not  to  scream,  "Help!  Help!"  like  an  early-Victorian 
heroine.  She  bit  back  the  cry  of  primitive  womanhood, 
but  to  her  intense  surprise,  and  even  horror,  she  found 
herself  landing  a  rousing  box  on  Tony's  ear. 

"You  vixen !"  he  blurted. 

"Cad!"  she  retorted. 


276  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

Witt  that,  his  hands  dropped  from  her  waist.  His 
face  had  been  pale  with  fatigue.  Now  it  was  paler 
with  pain.  "You  don't — mean  that,  Marise?"  he 
stammered. 

And,  of  course,  she  didn't.  Things  had  happened  in 
the  past  which  had  encouraged  him  to  this.  He  had 
thought  she  loved  him.  She  was  to  blame  as  much  as 
he  was — more,  perhaps — the  Canyon  would  say. 

"I'm  sorry  I  boxed  your  ear,  Tony,"  she  apologised. 
"But — but — if  you  go  on  like  this,  I'm  awfully  afraid 
I  shall  lose  my  head  and  box  it  again." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  he  said,  more  quietly. 

"I  don't  understand  myself,"  she  confessed. 

"Then" — and  fire  from  the  Canyon  lit  Severance's 
Greek  eyes — "it's  my  plan  to  make  you  understand. 
You  love  me.  You  daren't  go  back  from  it  all,  after 
what's  passed.     I  love  you,  and  you  belong  to  me." 

"Good  afternoon,  Severance,"  said  Garth  at  the 
window.     "I  heard  you'd  arrived." 


CHAPTEK  XXXV 

STRAIGHT  TALK 

IF  Garth  had  appeared  two  minutes  earlier1,  he  need 
have  suffered  no  uncertainty  about  Marise.  But 
unfortunately  she  was  not  in  these  days  the  romantic 
heroine  of  a  stage  play.  Characters  did  not  come  on 
or  go  off  at  just  the  right  instant  to  work  up  her 
scenes  in  life.  Therefore  this  unrehearsed  effect  ended 
with  an  anti-climax.  Whether  Severance  were  cast  for 
hero  or  villain  remained  doubtful:  and  whether  she 
had  acted  the  noble  wife  or  the  weak  lover  was  left 
vague:  or  at  least,  it  was  vague  to  the  mind  of  Garth. 
He  had  no  idea  what  Marise  had  done.  He  was  sure 
only  that  Severance  had  done  as  much  as  she  would  let 
him  do.  By  and  by  he  expected  to  learn  a  great  deal 
more :  through  the  process  of  deduction. 

"Good  gracious,  if  I  had  called  out,  he  would  have 
heard  me!"  thought  Marise;  and  was  thankful  that 
she  hadn't.  To  yell  for  John  Garth  to  rescue  her  from 
Tony  Severance !  That  would  have  been  too  inane,  too 
ridiculous.  Nevertheless,  a  picture  flashed  viyidly 
across  her  brain :  Garth  as  he  had  looked  that  night  at 
Mothereen's  house  when  hearing  her  shriek  he  had 
bounded  to  her  bedside  from  behind  the  screen.  His 
collar  had  been  off,  his  strong  throat  bare,  his  hair 
rumpled.  It  had  occurred  to  Marise  as  she  peeped 
from  between  her  lashes  that  he'd  make  a  fine  model  for 
a  young  Samson,  newly  sheared  by  Delilah. 

The  man's  quiet  voice  and  his  drawled  "Good  after- 

277 


278  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

noon,  Severance/'  frightened  her  a  little.  She  had  seen 
him  angry,  hut  never  violent.  She  felt  convinced, 
somehow,  that  the  angrier  he  was,  the  more  quiet  he 
would  be — deadly  quiet.  Just  why  she  felt  that,  she 
wouldn't  have  explained,  for  she  did  not  know  him  well 
— indeed,  she  knew  him  hardly  at  all.  Yet  she  was 
sure — very  sure.  And  she  was  sure  also  that  his  "good 
afternoon"  didn't  express  Garth's  real  emotion  at  sight 
of  Severance  with  her  on  the  terrace  of  Vision  House. 

"What  had  I  better  do?"  she  wondered.  "Go — 
or  stay?" 

She  decided  to  stay,  and  keep  peace  between  the  two 
men  if  need  be.  Besides,  she  must  hear  what  they 
would  say  to  each  other ! 

Severance  had  no  conventional  answer  for  Garth's 
"Good  afternoon."  He  stood  silent,  staring  and  frown- 
ing, fingering  his  small  black  moustache. 

"To  what  do  we  owe  the  pleasure  of  this  visit?" 
asked  his  host. 

Severance  had  never  been  able  to  forget  the  scene 
between  himself  and  Garth  at  the  latter's  hotel  in  New 
York.  He  was  at  heart  more  Greek  than  British;  and 
the  days  are  long  past  since  Greeks  were  aggressive 
fighters.  He  shrank  from  any  repetition  of  his  ex- 
perience at  the  Belmore,  and  had  come  to  Vision  House 
meaning  not  to  rouse  Garth  to  violent  issues.  That 
cool  question  was  too  much,  however,  for  his  prudence. 
Anyhow,  even  Garth  wouldn't  be  brute  enough  to  attack 
him  before  Marise ! 

"I  have  come  to  bring  Miss  Sorel  a  message  from  her 
mother,  who  wants  her  at  Los  Angeles,"  he  said  sharply. 

"That  might  do  if  she  were  Miss  Sorel,"  returned 
Garth.     "But  she  isn't." 

"She  is  professionally,"  said  Severance. 


STRAIGHT  TALK  279 

"She's  ceased  to  be  a  professional." 

"Temporarily." 

"Oh!  Your  point  is  that  she's  the  temporary  wife 
of  a  temporary  gentleman,  and  that  as  such  her  time 
with  the  T.G.  is  up.     Is  that  it  ?" 

"Precisely." 

"I  see.     You've  come  to  wind  up  the  arrangement  V ' 

"I  have.     You  must  have  been  expecting  me." 

"I  didn't  let  my  mind  dwell  on  you.  How  are  you 
going  to  pay  me  my  million — in  banknotes,  bonds  or  a 
cheque?  Because  I  may  as  well  inform  you,  I  shall 
refuse  to  accept  a  cheque." 

"I  don't  mean  to  offer  you  one." 

"Very  well.     Have  you  got  the  million  on  you?" 

"I  have  not !  I  haven't  got  it  anywhere — that  is,  all 
of  it.     I  shall  pay  you  by  instalments." 

"I  can't  agree  to  accept  the  money  like  that." 

"You'll  have  to!"  exploded  Severance.  "There's 
nothing  else  you  can  do." 

"You  think  so  ?  We  shall  see.  But  it  occurs  to  me 
that  one  instalment  deserves  another.  You  pay  me  by 
instalments:  I  allow  my  wife  to  go  to  her  mother  by 
instalments.     Some  of  her  trunks  can  go  first." 

"For  God's  sake  don't  joke  about  this  thing!"  broke 
out  Severance.     "It's  too  coarse — even  for  you." 

"Strikes  me  that  it  would  be  coarser  to  take  it  seri- 
ously," said  Garth.  "And  there's  no  need  of  doing 
that  any  more." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  the  other  asked  sharply. 

"As  I  pointed  out  before,  the  'bargain's'  smashed  to 
bits." 

"Nothing  of  the  sort!"  Severance  flung  at  him. 
"There  wasn't  a  word  spoken  about  handing  you  the 
whole  million  in  a  bunch." 


280  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"There  was  something  said  about  handing  it  over  in 
advance.     It  wasn't  handed  over." 

"That  was  Marise' s  fault,  not  mine.  She  rushed  on 
the  marriage  out  of  childish  pique  against  me,  never 
stopping  to  dream  of  the  consequences." 

"Which,  however,  haven't  been  very  disastrous  for 
her,"  said  Garth.     "Have  they,  Marise?" 

"No-o,"  she  murmured.  "But  oh,  please,  both  of  you 
— don't  lose  your  heads !" 

"Mine's  on  my  shoulders,"  returned  Garth  calmly. 
"And  I  see  an  excrescence  of  some  sort  protruding  from 
Severance's.  You  need  have  no  fear  for  either  of  us. 
Still,  if  you  prefer  to  wait  indoors,  we  can  get  on  with- 
out you  for  awhile." 

"No,  I'd  rather  stop  where  I  am,"  Marise  chose. 

"To  go  back  then,"  said  Garth ;  "the  fault,  if  it  was 
a  fault,  anyhow  wasn't  mine.  I  obeyed  the  lady's 
commands  and  married  her  without  haggling  for  money 
down.  As  there  was  no  'bargain'  to  stick  to,  I  stuck 
to  my  post,  the  post  of  dummy  husband,  to  oblige  her, 
not  for  any  mercenary  reason.  I  shall  go  on  sticking 
to  it,  if  not  to  please  her,  or  myself,  just  because  I've 
got  into  the  habit.  I  can't  break  that  even  for  Mrs. 
Sorel;  certainly  not  for  you." 

"I'm  not  talking  of  myself  now,"  barked  Severance. 
"I'm  talking  of  Marise.  She  wants  to  be  free.  Surely 
you  won't  hold  her  against  her  will." 

"Surely  she  can  speak  for  herself!"  said  Garth. 

Marise  did  not  speak.  Her  senses  began  to  whirl. 
She  did  not  know  what  was  to  become  of  her.  She 
couldn't  tell  what  she  wished  would  become  of  her! 
She  felt  as  if  a  wave  had  swept  over  her  head.  She 
was  drowning. 

"No!"  snapped  Garth,  when  she  remained  silent, 


STRAIGHT  TALK  281 

looking  at  neither,  but  gazing  anxiously  out  towards  the 
Canyon.  "No,  I  agreed  to  play  the  dummy  hand  dur- 
ing your  absence  for  the  sum  of  a  million  dollars.  I 
haven't  got  the  million.  But  even  if  I  had  got  it,  I 
should  have  demanded  a  second  million  to  clear  out 
There  was  nothing  specified  on  that  score  in  New  York." 

"It  was  taken  for  granted,  of  course !"  said  Severance. 
"There  was  no  other  meaning  possible.  We  trusted  to 
your  honour." 

"We?" 

"Miss  Sorel  and  I — and  her  mother." 

"That's  news  to  me.  Perhaps  I  shall  appreciate  it  as 
a  compliment  when  I'm  old — ninety  or  so.  I  don't 
now.     I  simply  don't  believe  it." 

"You  think  we  lie?" 

"First  person  singular,  please!  Marise  hasn't 
spoken." 

"Damn  you !"  broke  out  Severance,  at  the  end  of  his 
tether,  and  for  once  reckless  of  consequences.  "You 
refuse  to  let  her  go — you  refuse  equally  to  leave  her." 

"That's  so,"  said  Garth,  with  an  exaggerated  nasal 
twang  which  made  Severance  want  to  kill  him  for  his 
insolence.  He  started  forward,  itching  to  strike;  but 
something  he  saw  in  Garth's  eyes  brought  him  to  a 
standstill.  That  confounded  tooth  episode  was  always 
"throwing  itself  up  at  him,"  so  to  speak !  Fortunately, 
however,  he  remembered  something  at  that  instant — a 
weapon  which  he  had  almost  overlooked,  though  it  was 
within  his  grasp.  He  calmed  himself  with  a  kind  of 
mental  and  physical  stiffening. 

"If  you  don't  intend  to  carry  out  your  agreement — I 
insist,  your  agreement — !  why  have  you  brought  that 
secretary  girl,  Miss  Marks,  all  the  way  from  New  York 
to  El  Tovar  Hotel?"  he  hurled  at  Garth.     "When  I 


282  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

heard  she  was  there  and  that  you  were  constantly  riding 
over  from  your  place  to  see  her,  I  supposed  it  was  done 
on  purpose  to  give  Marise  an  easy  chance  to  get  her 
divorce.     As  it  is " 

"As  it  is,"  Garth  cut  him  short,  "the  affair  is  not 
your  business." 

"It's  Marise's  business,  if  it  doesnt  mean  what  I 
thought." 

"Then  let  her  attend  to  it.  She's  quite  capable  of 
doing  that,"  said  Garth.  "And  now,  unless  you  can 
produce  a  million  dollars  at  sight,  or  still  better,  two 
million,  don't  you  think  you'd  be  wise  to  blow  back  to 
your  hotel  ?     It'll  soon  be  too  dark  to  walk." 

Severance  turned  furiously  to  the  pale  girl.  "Marise 
— can  you  stand  by  and  see  me  ordered  away  like  this  ?" 

She  looked  at  him  with  a  strange  look  which  he  could 
not  read  at  all.  "This  is  his  house,  Tony,"  she  an- 
swered, in  an  odd,  dull  voice.     "Not  mine." 

"I  think  you'd  best  go,  for  your  own  sake,"  said 
Garth.  "But  come  back,  of  course,  when  you've  got 
the  money.  If  we're  here  then,  we'll  be  glad  to  see 
you." 

Severance  turned  without  another  word,  even  to 
Marise,  and  walked  away  as  he  had  come,  passing 
through  the  drawing-room.  Garth  started  to  follow, 
but  Marise  ran  to  him  and  stopped  him  with  a  small, 
ice-cold  hand  on  his  arm.  "Why  are  you  going  after 
Lord  Severance  ?"  she  whispered,  her  lips  dry. 

"Only  to  see  that  he  doesn't  lose  himself  somewhere 
in  the  house  and  hide  under  a  table  or  sofa,"  Garth 
explained. 

Her  hand  dropped.     She  let  him  go. 

There  was  no  fear  of  anything  melodramatic,  she 
saw.     Yet  she  was  not  relieved.     She  felt  as  if  she 


STRAIGHT  TALK  283 

had  some  black,  hollow,  worn-out  thing  in  her  breast 
instead  of  a  heart.  It  was  heavy  and  useless,  and 
hardly  beat. 

"That  horrid  girl !"  she  said  half  aloud  when  Garth 
had  gone.  "I  always  knew,  really,  she  would  be  here. 
I  believe  he  did  give  her  the  jewels,  and  Mother een 
wangled  them  away  from  her  somehow.  He's  pretend- 
ing to  follow  Tony,  and  see  him  out.  But  he  doesn't 
mean  to  come  back  here  to  me." 

As  she  thought  this,  Garth  came  back. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

STUMBLING  IN  THE  DARK 

AFTER  all,  Severance  had  hardly  expected  a  more 
brilliant  result  from  his  bluff.  The  one  real 
failure  was  in  losing  his  temper,  which,  when  discussing 
his  plan  with  Mums,  he'd  meant  to  preserve  like  a  jewel 
of  price. 

Only  the  short  preliminary  round  had  been  played. 
The  game  proper  was  all  before  him.  He'd  tested 
Marise  to  begin  with.  She  had  not  been  completely 
satisfying.  That  is,  she  hadn't  thrown  herself  into  his 
arms  and  sighed,  "Take  me  away,  darling  Tony!" 
which  would  have  been  the  ideal  thing.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  she  hadn't  very  actively  repelled  him.  If 
Garth  had  not  appeared  on  the  scene  like  a  stage  demon, 
all  might  have  been  different.  The  fellow  was  a  bully, 
and  had  cowed  the  girl.  Heaven  knew  to  what  means 
he  had  resorted  in  these  last  weeks  to  break  her  high 
spirit.  But  of  course  there  was  no  doubt  that  she 
wanted  to  free  herself,  and  the  best  service  Severance 
could  give  his  dear  lady-love  was  to  take  her  (ostensibly) 
against  her  will. 

That  brought  him  back  mentally  to  the  plan  he  had 
explained  to  Mary  Sorel  at  Bell  Towers — the  plan  she 
had  approved.  He  must  carry  it  out  at  once.  And 
Zelie  Marks's  presence  at  the  hotel  might  help,  he  began 
dimly  to  see  now. 

By  the  time  he  had  reached  El  Tovar  he  saw  with 
more  clearness.     At  the  hotel  desk  he  scribbled  on  one 

284 


STUMBLING  IN  THE  DARK  285 

of  his  visiting  cards,  "Please  grant  me  a  short  inter- 
view. I  come  to  you  from  Mrs.  John  Garth."  This 
card  he  slipped  into  an  envelope  and  closed  down  the 
flap.  Then  he  addressed  it,  and  requested  the  clerk, 
"Kindly  have  this  sent  up  immediately  to  Miss  Marks." 

While  he  awaited  an  answer,  or  the  arrival  of  Zelie, 
Severance  debated  whether  or  no  to  wire  Mary  Sorel. 

She  had  suggested  his  doing  so,  to  prevent  any  danger 
of  scandal  in  the  working  out  of  the  plan.  But  in  his 
heart  Tony  had  no  longer  the  holy  terror  of  that  bogey 
which  had  chilled  him  while  CEnone  was  alive. 

Then,  the  least  whisper  of  gossip  connecting  him  with 
Miss  Sorel,  or  even  Mrs.  Garth,  might  have  ruined  the 
prospect  of  marriage  with  his  cousin:  and  that  would 
have  been,  indirectly,  as  harmful  to  Marise  as  himself. 
Now,  however,  when  there  was  nothing  further  to  be 
gained  or  lost  for  either  of  them  from  Constantino 
Ionides,  Severance  need  think  only  of  himself  and 
Marise;  and  he  thought  of  himself  first 

His  intention  was  to  take  Marise  away  from  Garth, 
who  had  no  right  to  the  girl  and  was  keeping  her  against 
her  true  wish.  If  necessary,  Severance  would  take  her 
by  force,  for  her  own  good,  because  then  the  thing 
would  be  done  and  over  with :  there  would  be  no  going 
back.     But — anyhow — he  would  take  her ! 

Mums  had  urged  him  to  wire,  if  his  first  attempt 
failed,  and  Garth  refused  to  see  reason  as  presented  to 
him  with  mild  bluff.  She  wanted  to  fly  to  the  Grand 
Canyon  and  be  on  the  spot — ready  for  emergencies — to 
stand  by  her  daughter.  But  Severance  wasn't  sure 
even  now,  as  things  had  turned  out,  whether  he  would 
be  wise  in  furthering  this  wish. 

It  was  natural,  of  course.  But  just  as  scandal  would 
have  been  fatal  before,  it  might  be  useful  in  the  present 


286  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

situation.  If  her  "Mums"  were  close  at  hand,  Marise 
might  in  the  first  confusion  of  her  mind  seek  refuge 
under  the  maternal  wing,  from  the  man  she  loved.  If 
she  did  anything  futile  like  that,  it  would  give  Garth 
time  to  act:  whereas,  if  Marise  had  no  refuge  but  her 
lover — oh,  distinctly  it  would  be  tempting  Providence 
to  telegraph  to  Mums ! 

•  •••••  • 

"Well  ?"  said  Garth,  when  Marise  stood  statuelike  in 
the  blue  dusk. 

"I  don't  think  it  is  very  well,"  she  answered  slowly. 

"I  warned  you  fairly  that  I'd  not  stand  out  of  Sev- 
erance's way,"  Garth  reminded  her,  his  face  so  grey 
and  grim  in  the  twilight  that  the  girl  remembered  how 
she  had  thought  it  looked  carved  from  rock. 

"Yet  only  a  few  minutes  ago  you  offered  to  leave  me, 
for  a  bribe  of  a  second  million." 

"There  can't  be  a  'second'  million  till  there's  been  a 
first," 

"The  principle  is  the  same." 

"There's  where  you're  mistaken.  I  think  now  the 
time  has  come  for  you  to  understand.  But  I  had  a 
sneaking  idea  that  perhaps  you  did  understand,  already. 
You  have  a  sense  of  humour — a  strong  one,   for  a 


woman." 


"Has  a  sense  of  humour  anything  to  do  with — this 
affair?" 

"Yes.     A  grim  one.     But  if  you  don't  see  it " 

"Sometimes  for  a  minute  I've  wondered  if  I  did  see — 
something." 

"What  did  you  think  you  saw  ?" 

"I — hardly  care  to  put  it  into  words." 

"All  right  I'll  do  it  for  you.  But  if  I  do,  you 
must  answer  honestly." 


STUMBLING  IN  THE  DARK  287 

"I  will — if  I  answer  at  all." 

"Very  well,  I'll  risk  your  answering.  You  wandered 
pretty  often  and  by  flashes  if  the  question  of  money  ever 
had  anything  to  do  with  my  accepting  the  damnable  and 
disgusting  offer  Severance  made  to  me.     Was  that  it  ?" 

"Ye-es.  Though  what  else  could  it  be,  when  you 
showed  in  every  way  that  your  love — if  it  was  love — 
had  turned  to — to  actual  hate,  before  you  married  me  ?" 

"Oh,  not  so  bad  as  that!"  Garth  protested,  some- 
thing like  a  queer,  suppressed  laugh  shaking  his  voice. 

"Dislike,  then." 

"That  sounds  as  if  I  hadn't  treated  you  decently." 

"No,  for  you  have.  You've  been  very  decent  indeed 
— except  that  you've  forced  me  to  do  lots  of  things  I 
haven't  wanted  to  do,  like  living  in  that  suite  at  the 
Plaza  and — and  coming  out  here,  and  all  that." 

"Wasn't  it  necessary,  as  you  were  so  anxious  to  avoid 
scandal  ?" 

"There  might  have  been  other  ways." 

"I  didn't  see  them.  Anyhow,  it's  done  now.  It 
can't  be  undone.  And  as  things  were,  I've  tried  to 
treat  you  as  you  want  to  be  treated,  all  through.  As 
to  the  money,  I  will  defend  myself  there,  since  it  seems 
that  you  have  seen  to  the  bottom  of  the  well — where 
truth  lies ! — only  in  those  short  flashes.  If  Severance 
had  ever  tried  to  hand  me  a  million  dollars  or  any 
other  sum  for  what  I've  done,  I'd  have  thrown  it  in 
his  face,  and  knocked  the  face  in  after  it.  That's  what 
I  meant  from  the  first.     So  now  you  know." 

"But — if  you'd  stopped  wanting  me?  Why — why? 
You  said  yourself  I  didn't  seem  to  be  a  judge  of  how 
much  it  took  to  kill  love." 

"Yes,  I  said  that" 


288  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"And  you  said  other  things.  You  said  a  million  was 
always  useful  to  anyone " 

"There  I  banked  again  on  your  sense  of  humour.  Or 
perhaps  a  little  on  your  judgment  of  character." 

"I  must  confess  I've  tried  to  judge  yours!"  Marise 
exclaimed,  almost  in  spite  of  herself.  "But  I  can't — 
I'm  always  stumbling  against  things — in  the  dark." 

"Well,  there's  plenty  of  'dark'!  I  admit  that," 
said  Garth.  "Many  people  would  say  that  of  me. 
Perhaps  the  only  one  who  wouldn't  is  little  Mothereen, 
and  we  can't  count  her,  can  we?  There  are  all  sorts 
of  horrid  possibilities  in  the  dark,  where  a  character's 
concerned.  My  motive,  though  not  mercenary,  might 
have  been  revenge  punishment !" 

"That's  often  seemed  to  me  the  most  likely!"  cried 
Marise.     "Especially  now." 

"Especially  now?     Explain,  please." 

"Now,  when  you've  brought  that  girl  out  here,  close 
to  this  house.  You  did  bring  her,  didn't  you  ?'  You 
asked  me  to  be  honest.     Be  honest  yourself !" 

"By  my  request  she  came." 

"You  paid  for  her  to  come  ?" 

"Yes,  I  couldn't  let  her  give  up  a  good  job  in  New 
York,  even  for  awhile,  and  travel  so  far  on  my  business, 
at  her  own  expense — could  I?" 

"On  your  business?" 

"Yes.  I  told  you  once  that  Miss  Marks  was  an  old 
friend.  We've  known  each  other  for  years.  She  used 
to  live  at  Albuquerque.  Cath  and  Bill,  whom  you  met, 
are  her  cousins — or  rather,  Cath  is.  Mothereen  is 
fond " 

"Ah,  now  I'm  swe  of  something  I  only  wondered 
about  before!" 

"Will  you  tell  me  what  that  is?" 


STUMBLING  IN  THE  DARK  289 

"A  note  for  Meesis  Garth  from  the  Hotel  El  Tovar," 
announced  the  voice  of  the  half-breed  maid. 

"Bring  it  to  me!"  Marise  ordered. 

The  girl,  instinctively  aware  that  she'd  interrupted 
a  "scene/'  tripped  across  the  terrace  with  an  apologetic 
air.  Marise  almost  snatched  an  envelope  from  a  little 
silver  tray  and  tore  it  open.  Her  strong  young  eyes 
could  just  make  out  through  the  dusk  a  few  lines  of 
written  words. 

"This  is  from  Zelie  Marks !"  she  exclaimed,  looking 
up  at  Garth.  "She  wants  me  to  come  over  at  once  and 
see  her  at  the  hotel.  She  says  she  has  been  ill,  and 
that's  the  reason  she's  staying  on  there." 

"She  tells  the  truth.  She  had  appendicitis.  They 
thought  there'd  have  to  be  an  operation,  but  they  cured 
her  up — or  nearly — without.  Why  does  she  ask  to  see 
you?" 

"She  says  she'll  explain  everything  when  I  get  there." 

"Do  you  intend  to  go?" 

"Yes.     I'd  like  to  hear — her  story." 

"All  right — go.  You  shall  have  the  car,  of  course. 
But  there  are  a  few  things  I'd  prefer  to  tell  you  myself 
first." 

"I'd  rather  hear  everything  from  her." 

Garth  gave  a  shrug.  "Very  well.  As  you  please. 
But  you  and  she  both  seem  to  forget  dinner-time. 
You'll  be  hungry  if " 

"I  won't  be  hungry!"  cried  Marise.  "I  want  to 
start  now." 

"I'll  see  to  it  for  you,"  said  Garth,  with  that  quiet, 
rather  heavy  air  which  irritated  Marise  sometimes  and 
always  puzzled  her.  Eor  that  was  one  of  the  things 
about  him  which  upset  her  judgment  of  his  character. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

ZELIE  GETS  EVEN 

WILL  you  step  into  Miss  Marks's  sitting-room? 
She's  expecting  you/'  Marise  was  greeted,  ar- 
riving at  the  hotel. 

"A  private  sitting-room!  And  Jack  Garth's  money 
pays  for  it,"  she  thought  dully.  But  of  course  it  was 
nothing  to  her.  At  least,  it  would  have  been  nothing 
if,  while  keeping  it  secret,  he  was  not  bent  on  driving 
away  the  man  who  loved  her — Marise.  Oh,  and  that 
reminded  her  of  an  important  thing!  It  had  been  on 
her  lips  to  accuse  him  of  giving  Zelie  the  jewels,  but 
she  had  been  interrupted,  or  had  forgotten.  Then  the 
note  had  come  from  the  hotel.  .  .  .  She  would  have 
the  truth  out  of  Zelie  herself. 

The  sitting-room  was  on  the  ground  floor,  and  had  a 
loggia  all  its  own,  lit  by  a  red-shaded  electric  lamp,  like 
an  illuminated  poppy.  Zelie  was  there  in  a  huge 
American  rocking-chair,  gazing  Canyonward  under  the 
moon,  when  Mrs.  Garth  was  shown  into  the  room.  In- 
stantly the  girl  jumped  up,  and  Marise  saw  her  framed 
in  the  door.  She  looked  pale,  and  thinner  than  she 
had  been  in  New  York.  But  the  change  wasn't  un- 
becoming. 

The  conventional  thing  would  have  been  for  Zelie  to 
say,  "How  good  of  you  to  come!  I  hope  you  didn't 
mind  my  sending  for  you,  as  I've  been  ill."  Where- 
upon Marise  would  naturally  have  answered,  "Not  at 
all." 

290 


ZELIE  GETS  EVEN  £91 

But  nothing  of  the  kind  happened.  The  two  girls 
eyed  each  other  like  fencers,  or  even  like  cats.  Then 
Marise  said,  "You  see,  I've  come." 

"Yes,"  replied  Zelie,  "I  supposed  you  would,  after 
what  Lord  Severance  told  me." 

Marise  was  startled.  "Lord  Severance!  What  did 
he  tell  you?" 

"That  you  suspected  your  husband  and  me  of  all 
sorts  of  unmentionable  things,  and  that  you  wouldn't 
be  satisfied  until  you'd  had  it  out  with  me.  Well — 
now  you  can  have  it  out  with  me.  Fire  away,  Mrs. 
Garth.  I've  nothing  to  be  ashamed  of.  It's  all  the 
other  way  round." 

"What  do  you  mean  ?"  gasped  Marise. 

"Well,  frankly,  I  mean  that  you  should  be  ashamed 
of  suspecting  him.     You  ought  to  know  him  better." 

"I  said  not  one  word  to  Lord  Severance  about  sus- 
pecting my — Major  Garth,"  Marise  broke  out  in  self- 
defence. 

"Didn't  you?"  echoed  Zelie.  "Well,  that's  funny, 
since  he  sent  up  his  card  and  told  me  you  were  wild. 
He  urged  and  urged,  if  I  had  any  friendship  for  Jack 
Garth,  to  write  and  get  you  here." 

"That's  very  strange,"  said  Marise.  "But  I  suppose 
— one  must  suppose ! — he  meant  well.  Now  I  am  here, 
if  you  have  anything  to  tell  me  you  might  as  well 
tell  it." 

"Does  Jack  know  you've  come  ?"  asked  Zelie  quietly. 

"He  does.  We  were  talking  about  you  when  your 
note  arrived.  You  see,  Lord  Severance  mentioned  that 
you  were  at  the  hotel." 

"Then  why  did  you  want  to  talk  with  me  ?  Surely 
you'd  believe  Jack?  I  shouldn't  think  anyone  ever 
accused  him  of  lying !" 


292  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"I  never  did !  But  I — well,  when  your  note  came  I 
thought  I'd  rather  hear  everything  from  you.  It 
wouldn't  have  occurred  to  me  otherwise." 

"You  mean  you  wouldn't  have  proposed  coming  over 
here  if  I  hadn't  written  ?" 

"I  shouldn't  even  have  thought  of  it." 

"Then  it's  a  game  of  Lord  Severance's  we  seem  to  be 
playing." 

"I  don't  see  his  object,"  puzzled  Marise. 

"Neither  do  I,"  replied  Zelie — "yet.  But  as  you 
say — now  you  are  here,  we  might  as  well  talk.  Won't 
you  sit  down?" 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  Marise.     "I'd  rather  stand." 

"Well,  if  you  don't  mind,  Til  sit.  I'm  not  very 
strong  yet,  as  I  told  you  in  my  letter,  that's  why  I'm 
still  here." 

"Oh,  please  do  sit  down!"  cried  Marise,  more  gently. 
"In  that  case  I  will  sit,  too." 

"In  justice  to  Jack  I  ought  to  tell  you  the  whole 
story  of  why  I  came  out,"  said  Zelie.  "He  and  I  de- 
cided it  would  be  best  for  you  not  to  know.  At  least,  I 
decided,  because  I'm  a  woman  and  realise  how  a  woman 
feels  about  such  things.  However,  as  he  let  you  come 
here  to  see  me,  he  must  have  expected  you  to  hear  the 
truth.  Goodness  knows,  it's  simple  enough,  and  won't 
take  long  in  the  telling !  The  morning  after  you  were 
married  he  called  early  to  see  me,  and  asked  if  I'd  do 
him  a  big  favour.  Of  course  I  said  yes.  The  favour 
was,  to  start  out  West  at  once,  buy  pretty  things  to 
decorate  your  room  at  Vision  House,  get  the  whole 
place  in  apple-pie  order,  and  engage  servants  from 
somewhere — no  matter  where,  and  no  matter  what 
wages.  Mothereen  wasn't  strong  enough  to  have  the 
whole  work  thrown  on  her  shoulders,  though  she'd  have 


ZELIE  GETS  EVEN  293 

loved  it.  But  when  I'd  finished  a  lot  of  commissions 
at  Kansas  City,  I  stopped  at  Albuquerque  and  told  her 
about  you." 

"I  wonder  what  you  told?"  Marise  laughed  a  little 
nervously. 

"What  Jack  would  have  wanted  me  to  tell,  not  what 
you  deserved." 

Mrs.  John  Garth  stiffened.  "Are  you  the  judge  of 
what  I  deserve?" 

"God  help  you  if  I  were !  All  I  know  about  you  is, 
that  you're  the  most  spoiled,  conceited  girl  I  ever  saw, 
and  that  you're  not  capable  of  appreciating  Jack  Garth 
— no,  not  capable!" 

"You  don't  know  in  the  least  what  I'm  capable  of !" 
The  cheeks  of  Marise  were  burning  now.  They  felt  as 
if  they  had  been  slapped.  "I  never  showed  my  real 
self  to  you.     Why  should  I  ?" 

"Why,  indeed?  But  you  showed  me  all  your 
gladdest  rags,  and  your  jewels  and  newspaper  notices, 
and  let  me  answer  lots  of  your  love-letters,  meaning  to 
make  the  poor  secretary  envious." 

"What  horrid  thoughts  you  had  of  me!  I  never 
meant  that." 

"Subconsciously,  if  not  consciously,  that's  just  what 
you  did  mean."  i 

"I  won't  dispute  with  you,  Miss  Marks.  But  speak- 
ing of  jewels — since  you're  being  so  frank — tell  me  if 
Major  Garth  didn't  make  a  present  to  you  of  a  rope 
of  pearls,  an  emerald  laurel  wreath,  a  sapphire  and 
diamond  pendant " 

Zelie  was  strongly  tempted  to  answer  bluntly  "Yes." 
If  she  did,  and  left  it  at  that,  Marise  would  be  furious. 
She  would  go  back  to  Vision  House  and  quarrel  with 
Jack,  even  if  the  two  hadn't  quarrelled  irrevocably 


294  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

already,  and  the  divorce  which  might  give  Jack  to  her 
would  come  soon.  But  no,  she  had  vowed  to  herself 
that  she  would  be  loyal  to  Jack  through  everything. 
She  had  vowed,  too,  that  she  would  "get  even"  with 
Marise  Sorel  some  day — and  now  was  the  day  when 
she  could  "bring  off  the  stunt,"  as  she  said  to  herself. 
But  she  wouldn't  get  even  in  a  way  to  hurt  Jack.  If 
possible,  she'd  do  it  in  a  way  to  help  him. 

"He  gave  me  those  things  to  take  out  to  Mothereen 
and  ask  her  to  keep  them  for  you,  till  you  came,"  lied 
Zelie.  And  lying,  she  looked  more  indignantly  virtuous 
than  when  she  had  been  telling  the  simple  truth. 

Marise  believed  her. 

"Is  there  anything  more  you  want  to  know?"  in- 
quired Miss  Marks.  "Because  if  you  do,  I  can't  think 
of  much  which  would  especially  concern  or  interest  you, 
except  that  Mothereen — Mrs.  Mooney — came  to  the 
Grand  Canyon  with  me  and  helped  as  much  in  the 
work  as  she  was  strong  enough  to  do.  So  you  needn't 
imagine  she  told  you  any  fibs.  If  there  were  reserva- 
tions, I'm  responsible.  She'd  have  blabbed  out  every- 
thing if  I  hadn't  warned  her  you  wouldn't  be  pleased  to 
hear  that  I'd  been  Jack's  chosen  messenger.  You 
didn't  like  me  much,  I  said.  You  and  your  mother 
thought  I  was  rather  forward  and  above  my  place. 
You'd  think  so  a  heap  more  if  you  knew.  Mothereen 
promised  to  hold  her  tongue.  It  must  have  been  a 
struggle  for  her.  She's  as  ingenuous  as  a  child.  So 
is  Jack  in  some  ways.  He'd  have  told  you  all  about 
me  if  I  hadn't  made  him  see  it  wouldn't  do." 

"You  seem  to  have  been  awfully  solicitous  on  my 
account,"  said  Marise. 

"It  was  on  Jack's  account  really,"  explained  Zelie. 

"I  didn't  want  his  apple-cart  to  be  upset — no  matter 


ZELIE  GETS  EVEN  295 

what  I  thought  of  the  apples.  I  didn't  care  a  hang  for 
them  personally." 

Marise  laughed.     "The  apples  were  me." 

"That's  it.  Pretty,  good-smelling  apples,  with  pink 
cheeks  and  satin  skin.     But  at  heart — r-o-t-t-e-n !" 

"Thanks !"  choked  Marise,  and  got  up.  "Thank  you 
for  all  your  frankness.  I  could  return  some  of  it,  but 
you've  been  ill,  and  I  don't  like  being  rude.  I  must 
just  say  one  thing,  however,  before  I  go.  You've  given 
yourself  away  dreadfully." 

Zelie  stumbled  to  her  feet.     "How  ?" 

"By  showing  me  exactly  what  your  feeling  is  for 
Major  Garth." 

"I'm  his  pal  from  the  beginning  to  the  end." 

Marise  ignored  the  evasion.  "You  needn't  be  afraid 
that  I'll  be  cad  enough  to  go  and  tell  him  what  I  think 
about  you.  He  probably  knows  your  feelings  and  re- 
turns them,  but " 

"He  doesn't.  Are  you  a  damn  fool,  or  are  you  only 
pretending  ?" 

"I  daresay  I'm  a  damn  fool,"  repeated  Marise 
sweetly.    "In  any  case,  I'm  not  pretending." 

"Then  you're  doubly  a  fool!"  shrilled  Zelie.  "A 
damned  fool  not  to  know  how  Jack  feels  for  you,  and  a 
damneder  one  not  to  know  enough  to  feel  right  towards 
him.  Jack's  the  salt  of  the  earth.  There's  more  cour- 
age and  good  faith  and  everything  noble  and  big  in  his 
little  finger  than  in  your  whole  lovely  body.  So  now 
you  can  go  home.     And  put  that  in  your  pocket !" 

Marise  went.  She  shut  the  door  softly,  so  softly 
and  considerately  that  it  hurt  worse  than  a  loud  slam. 

"I  did  get  even  with  her!"  Zelie  thought.  And 
plumped  down  on  the  sofa  with  a  sob. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

WHEN  SEVERANCE  THREW  DOWN  THE  KEY 

NOT  far  from  the  door  of  Zelie  Marks's  room  another 
door  stood  open.     Marise  would  have  whirled  past 
it  without  noticing,  had  not  her  name  been  called. 

She  turned  her  head,  with  a  slight  start,  and  saw 
Severance. 

"Come  here  a  moment,  my  dear  one,"  he  said.  "I 
have  to  speak  to  you." 

Marise  hesitated.  Her  brain  was  not  clear.  She 
felt  dazed,  as  if  Zelie  had  boxed  her  ears,  as  she  had 
boxed  Tony's  earlier.  She  longed  for  sympathy.  No 
one — not  even  Garth  himself ! — had  ever  been  so  horrid 
to  her  before,  as  Zelie  had. 

Severance  took  her  hand  and  drew  her  gently  over 
the  threshold  into  a  private  sitting-room  much  like 
Miss  Marks's.  Then,  when  she  was  safely  inside  the 
room,  he  shut  the  door,  locked  it,  and  jerked  out  the 
key. 

"Tony!"  cried  Marise.  She  felt  as  if  some  scene 
in  one  of  her  plays  had  come  true.  Except  that — Tony 
wasn't  the  villain  who  locked  the  heroine  in.  Surely 
he  wasn't  the  villain ! 

"This  isn't  the  right  time  for  a  joke,"  she  said. 

"And  this  isn't  a  joke,"  said  Severance. 

"Well,  unlock  the  door  at  once,  please,  and  let  me 
out,"  she  insisted.     "I  must  go " 

"Where  must  you  go  ?"  he  asked. 

"Where?    Ho — back,  of  course." 

296 


SEVERANCE  THROWS  DOWN  THE  KEY  897 

"To  Garth — after  what  happened  between  us  three 
at  his  house  this  evening?  It's  impossible  for  you  to 
go  back  to  him,  Marise.  He  can't  expect  it  himself. 
When  you  came  away  to-night — if  he  knew  you  came 
— he  must  have  known  the  whole  thing  was  finished,  the 
farce  played  out." 

The  girl  felt  as  if  a  chilly  breeze  blew  over  her.  She 
did  not  answer  for  a  moment.  She  was  wondering  in 
an  awed  way  if  Tony  were  right.  Was  that  the  reason 
Garth  had  let  her  go  so  easily,  to  answer  Zelie's  note  in 
person  ?  But  no.  He  had  only  just  reminded  her  the 
moment  before  how  he'd  never  intended  giving  her  up 
to  Severance.  Still — when  she  thought  of  it — what 
was  there  to  go  back  for,  unless  she  intended  to  stay 
married  to  Garth — to  be  married  to  him  as  other  women 
were  married  to  their  husbands? 

She  had  never  contemplated  that,  even  at  the  times — 
and  there  had  been  times — when  she'd  admired  Garth, 
admired  him  with  a  secret  thrill.  Besides,  no  matter 
how  much  Garth  had  wanted  her,  in  the  first  throes  of 
his  infatuation,  he  didn't  want  her  now — for  good. 
Oh,  such  an  end  to  the  play  wasn't  to  be  dreamed  of, 
from  whichever  side  you  looked  at  it ! 

"If  I  go  away  anywhere  from  Vision  House,  it  will 
be  to  my  mother,"  she  said  at  last. 

"Yes,  of  course.  That's  where  I'm  going  to  take  you. 
We'll  go  to-night.     There's  a  train  we " 

"I  can't  possibly  go  with  you!"  she  cried.  "Don't 
you  see,  to  do  that  would  cause  the  very  scandal  we've 
all  sacrificed  so  much  to  prevent  ?" 

"I  do  see,"  said  Tony.  "But  you  said  yourself  to- 
day that  'everything  had  changed.'  We  don't  need  to 
be  afraid  of  scandal  any  more.  It  can't  hurt  us  now. 
It  will  do  us  good.     Marise,  I've  been  thinking  things 


298  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

over,  and  I  believe  that  the  only  way  we  can  get  that 
brute  to  free  you  is  by  deliberately  making  a  scandal. 
All  the  trouble  comes  from  your  throwing  yourself  at 
the  fellow's  head  in  such  a  hurry.  If  you'd  waited, 
(Enone  dying  when  she  did  would  have  made  your  mar- 
riage useless.  You  and  I  would  both  have  been 
free " 

"We  were  both  free  before  you  decided  you'd  have 
to  marry  (Enone,"  broke  in  Marise. 

"That  was  different.  I  was  in  debt  and  hadn't  a 
penny  to  play  with.  I  couldn't  live  on  you.  Now  my 
debts  are  paid,  and  though  they've  not  left  me  a  very 
rich  man,  I've  got  something  to  go  on  with " 

"You  have,  because  Jack  Garth  won't  take  your 
money." 

"Oh,  wouldn't  he,  if  he  could  get  it?" 

"No!" 

"Well,  again,  there'd  be  no  question  of  money  at 
present  between  him  and  me  if  you'd  waited,  and 
hadn't  tangled  yourself  up  in  this  beastly  knot  to  spite 
me.  Now  I'll  have  to  get  you  out  of  the  tangle  as  best 
I  can.  You  can't  do  it  yourself,  and  Garth  will  hang 
on  to  you  for  the  same  motive  you  had — spite,  if 
nothing  more.  Go  with  me  to-night.  Be  brave. 
Make  sl  scandal.  Then  for  the  sake  of  that  mother  of 
his — and  for  his  pride  if  he  has  any,  if  not,  for  the 
appearance  of  it — he'll  free  you." 

Marise  was  very  pale.  "A  little  while  ago,"  she  said, 
"you  spoke  of  Zelie  Marks  being  here  to  give — an  excuse 
for  divorce." 

"Yes.  That  seems  the  likely  thing.  Garth  probably 
arranged  it  when  he  expected  money  from  me,  to  make 
divorce  worth  his  while.  Now  we've  had  a  row,  more 
or  less,  and  he  knows  that  at  best  he  can't  get  much. 


SEVERANCE  THROWS  DOWN  THE  KEY  299 

His  cry  is  'all  or  nothing.'  He  won't  use  Miss  Marks 
as  a  pretext." 

"I  tell  you  he  never  intended  to  accept  money !"  in- 
sisted Marise. 

"That's  a  new  opinion  of  yours,  isn't  it  ?" 

"I  never  felt  he  would  touch  it.  But  I  didn't  know 
surely.     Now  I  do." 

"I  wonder  how  ?" 

"I  do— that's  all." 

"Well,  by  Jove;  I  never  expected  to  hear  you  taking 
Garth's  part  against  me!"  Tony  exploded. 

"I'm  not  doing  that,"  Marise  said.  "We've  all  been 
horrid  and  detestable  in  this  business,  you  and  I,  and 
even  poor  Mums — for  my  sake — — " 

"What  about  Garth?     Is  he  on  a  higher  plane?" 

"Yes,  he  ts!"  exclaimed  the  girl.  "He  loved  me 
once.  He  wanted  to  marry  me  then — just  for  love. 
How  he  felt  afterwards — or  how  he  feels  now — I  don't 
know.     But — he's  not  a  beast/' 

"And  I  am?" 

"Oh,  I  put  myself  and  Mums  in  the  same  box  with 
you.  I'm  saying  nothing  of  you  I  don't  say  of  our- 
selves." 

"Well,  so  be  it!"  said  Severance.  "I'm  a  beast,  if 
you  like,  and  you're  the  female  of  my  kind.  All  the 
more  reason  why  you  belong  to  me.  Nothing  shall 
separate  us  again.     Even  if  we  can't  marry " 

"Let  me  go  out  of  this  room !"  the  girl  cried  sharply. 

"No !  Your  mother  approved  of  my  plan,  I  tell  you, 
Marise.  She  saw  it  was  the  only  way,  for  me  to  take 
you " 

"I  don't  believe  it!  There's  not  an  unconventional 
drop  of  blood  in  Mums'  veins.  If  she  wanted  me  to  be 
'taken'  anywhere,  it  would  be  to  her.     She  would  have 


300  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

come  to  this  hotel,  and  received  me.  Then,  perhaps, 
I  would  have  stayed — but  not  for  you.  I  don't  love 
you,  Tony!  I've  discovered  that.  I  wouldn't  marry 
you  if  I  could." 

"You're  out  of  your  senses!"  he  cried.  "You  may 
think  what  you  say  at  this  minute,  because  you're  angry. 
But  your  heart's  mine.     I  won't  let  you  go " 

"If  you  don't,  I'll  scream,"  threatened  Marise. 
"Open  that  door  at  once,  or  I'll  yell  at  the  top  of  my 
lungs." 

"I  don't  think  you  will,"  said  Severance.  "You 
don't  like  scenes,  except  on  the  stage.  Besides,  I  don't 
care  a  damn  if  you  do  yell.  It  won't  change  things  in 
the  end." 

The  girl's  answer  was  to  lift  her  voice  and  shriek  as 
only  a  trained  actress  can  shriek. 

Instantly,  before  she  had  reached  her  highest  note, 
Garth  stepped  over  the  low  window-sill. 

"I  was  waiting  for  that,"  he  said.  "I  knew  you  were 
here,  Marise,  so  I  lurked  on  the  loggia.  Unlock  that 
door,  Severance." 

The  other  man  was  olive  grey  with  rage  and  disap- 
pointment. It  occurred  to  Marise  that  he  looked  sea- 
sick. 

"Unlock  the  damned  thing  yourself!"  he  spat,  and 
flung  the  key  on  the  floor. 

It  landed  near  Garth's  feet.  But  Garth  did  not 
stoop. 

"Pick  up  the  key,"  he  said  quietly. 

"I'm  damned  if  I  will !"  sputtered  Severance. 

"Not  so  many  damns,  please,"  said  Garth.  "They 
bore  me."  He  took  a  Browning  from  his  pocket  and 
aimed  it  neatly  at  the  centre  of  Severance's  forehead. 
"Better  pick  up  the  key,"  he  added. 


SEVERANCE  THROWS  DOWN  THE  KEY  301 

Severance  picked  it  up. 

"Now  unlock  the  door." 

Severance  unlocked  it,  and  walked  out  into  the  hall. 
Then  he  slammed  the  door  after  him.  Voices  were 
heard. 

"Somebody's  come  to  inquire  why  somebody 
screamed,"  said  Garth,  pocketing  the  weapon  again. 
"If  they  knock  here,  it's  all  right.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Garth 
have  a  right  to  a  tete-a-tete  anywhere.  I'll  say  you 
thought  you  saw  a  mouse.  That'll  settle  their  doubts 
forever." 

But  nobody  knocked. 

"Don't  be  afraid,"  Garth  went  on.  "Even  if  you 
came  in  here  because  you  wanted  to  come,  I  shan't  make 
a  row.  But  somehow  I've  got  a  'hunch'  that  you  didn't 
want  to." 

"I  didn't,"  said  Marise. 

"He  pulled  you  in?" 

"Yes.    I  didn't  think  much  of  it  at  first    But " 

"Well,  I  don't  believe  he'll  trouble  you  again.  Not 
fcver.  I  felt  he  might  make  a  fool  of  himself  to-night, 
though.  So  I  came  over,  in  case  I  should  be  needed. 
Now,  what  do  you  want  to  do — I  mean,  really  want  ?  I 
consider  Severance  wiped  off  the  map — your  map.  So 
if  you  wish  to  be  free  of  me,  I'll  make  you  so.  While 
Severance  was  in  the  offing  I'd  have  stuck  to  you  like  a 
leech,  because  you're  too  good  for  him.  That  Browning 
wasn't  loaded.  But  I'd  have  killed  the  fellow  sooner 
than  give  you  up  to  him.  It's  different  now.  I'll  take 
you  to  Los  Angeles,  to  your  mother  at  Bell  Towers  to- 
night if  you  like." 

Marise  was  silent. 

"You've  only  got  to  say,"  he  prompted  her. 

To  his  intense  surprise  and  her  own,  Marise  began  to 


302  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

cry.    Tears  poured  down  her  cheeks.    She  flung  herself 
on  a  sofa  and  sobbed.    "I'm  so — so  unhappy !" 

Garth's  face  grew  slowly  red  as  he  looked  at  her. 
"I'm  sorry  for  that,"  he  said.  "Once  I  was  willing  you 
should  be  unhappy.  I'm  past  that  now.  But  you 
needn't  be  unhappy  long.  You  don't  even  have  to  spend 
another  night  in  Vision  House.    Your  mother " 

"You  want  me  to  go,"  gulped  Marise.  "You  really 
love  Zelie  Marks " 

"You're  talking  in  your  hat,"  he  sharply  cut  her 
short.  "You  know  I  don't  love  Zelie  Marks.  What 
Severance  said  about  her  and  me  to-day  was  disgusting. 
She  and  I  are  friends.  She's  a  good  girl  and  a  grand 
pal.  I  wouldn't  hurt  her  even  for  you.  And  I  tell  you 
this,  Marise,  now  that  I  know— for  I  do  know ! — that 
you  won't  marry  that  cad  Severance,  you  can  divorce 
me.  But  it  will  have  to  be  done  decently.  You  can  go 
to  Reno  and  live  there  for  a  few  months  with  Mrs.  Sorel. 
Then  you  can  free  yourself  on  the  grounds  that  our 
tempers  are  incompatible.  But  no  woman's  to  be 
lugged  in,  even  a  stranger.  I  won't  stand  for  that.  For 
the  sake  of  Mothereen  and  my  Victoria  Cross  I  won't  be 
dragged  in  the  dirt.  I'll  not  give  you  what  the  lawyers 
call  'cause.'    So  there  you  are.    Now  you  know." 

But  Marise  still  sobbed.  "I  don't — don't  wish  to 
drag  anyone  in  the  dust !"  she  wailed. 

"I'm  sure  you  don't,"  said  Garth,  in  an  impersonal 
tone,  a  tone  of  kind  encouragement.  "You've  changed 
quite  a  lot  since  New  York,  though  the  time's  been  short. 
You  can't  measure  these  things  by  time!  I  hoped 
you'd  change.  You  were  an  adorable  girl,  but  I  told 
you  once  that  you  were  spoiled  and  selfish,  and  you  were 
— all  of  that.  You  weren't  a  woman.  Now  you  are.  I 
counted  a  bit  on  the  effect  of  Mothereen.    And  I  counted 


SEVERANCE  THROWS  DOWN  THE  KEY  303 

a  whole  lot  on  the  Canyon.  They've  both  worked  their 
spells  more  or  less,  I  shouldn't  wonder.  But  you  haven't 
changed  to  me.  Not  that  I  ever  really  dared  expect 
that.  But  I  sort  of  hoped — at  first.  I'm  not  blaming 
you,  though.  I  took  the  risk — and  let  you  take  it.  Now 
for  the  next  thing." 

"Now  for — the  next  thing!"  repeated  Marise,  be- 
tween sobs;  and  searched  wildly  in  her  gold-mesh  bag. 
"For  Heaven's  sake  lend  me  a  handkerchief,"  she  wept. 

Garth  lent  it,  a  linen  one,  not  scented  as  Severance's 
handkerchief  would  have  been,  but  fresh  and  clean- 
smelling. 

"We're  still  in  that  cad's  room,"  Garth  said,  looking 
round  with  a  frown.  "But  he  won't  bother  us.  And 
we'd  better  thrash  things  out,  now  we're  about  it.  We 
must  decide  where  you're  to  go.  You  know,  Maris©, 
I'm  on  long  leave.  I  never  quite  made  up  my  mind 
whether  to  go  back  to  my  regiment,  or  chuck  the  army 
for  good,  and  stay  over  here.  I  thought  some  day  I'd 
hear  a  clear  call,  one  way  or  the  other,  while  there  was 
time  to  decide.  And  I  knew  Mothereen  wouldn't  long 
be  far  off  from  me,  whatever  I  did.  But  now  I  leave  it 
to  you  to  settle  the  matter  for  me.  I  expect  I  owe  you 
that,  for  all  my  sulkiness.  If  you  want  to  live  over  on 
this  side,  I'll  go  back  to  England — my  father's  country. 
If  you'd  like  to  take  up  your  career  there  again,  rather1 
than  you  should  risk  running  up  against  me  all  the 
time,  I'll  resign  my  commission — as  Severance  and  a 
lot  of  fellows  like  him  hoped  they  could  make  me  do ! — 
settle  down  in  Arizona  and — forget  the  war." 

"Forget  me,  you  mean!"  said  Marise. 

His  tone  changed,  and  he  spoke  in  a  lower  voice.  "I 
don't  expect  ever  to  forget  you,  Marise." 

"But  you'd  like  to!" 


?> 


304  THE  VISION  HOUSE 

"I'm  not  so  sure  of  that,  in  spite  of  all." 

"You  will  be,  when  you  marry  Zelie  Marks. 

"Zelie  Marks  again !" 

"Or  somebody  else." 

"I  shall  never  marry,  Marise.  That's  as  certain  as 
that  I'm  alive.  I  haven't  any  love  to  give  another 
woman  after  you.  You  had  it  every  bit.  But  that's  not 
an  interesting  subject  to  you,  is  it  ?  Can  you  make  up 
your  mind  to-night  and  answer  my  question  ?  Shall  it 
be  England  for  you  and  America  for  me,  or — vice 
versa?" 

"You  liked  the  army,  didn't  you  ?  You  didn't  want 
to  give  it  up." 

"I  wasn't  going  to  be  driven  out  by  Severance  and  Co. 
I  shouldn't  mind  so  much  going  of  my  own  accord." 

"Wouldn't  you  like  to  stay  in  the  Guards  for  some 
years  anyhow,  and  reap  the  reward  of  what  you've  done  ? 
— coming  over  here  to  Vision  House  now  and  then  on 
leave,  till  you're  ready  to  rest  and  settle  down  for 
good?" 

"Sounds  pretty  ideal,  as  you  put  it.  But  I'll  be  con- 
tent enough  either  way.  It's  for  you  to  decide  for  me, 
as  things  stand.  But  oh,  by  the  by,  I  forgot!  I'm 
really  rather  a  rich  man,  Marise.  I've  made  my  fortune 
three  times  over,  and  I've  got  umpteen  thousands  more 
than  I  need  for  myself  or  Mothereen.  I  want  you  to 
have  alimony " 

"Oh  no !"  she  exclaimed.  "I'm  rich  too — quite  rich 
enough." 

"But  I  wish  you  to  take  something  of  mine,  don't  you 
understand  ?  And  money's  the  only  thing  I  have  that 
you  could  possibly  care  to  have." 

Marise  began  to  cry  again,  twice  as  hard  as  before. 


SEVERANCE  THROWS  DOWN  THE  KEY  305 

"There  is — something  else  of  yours  I'd  care  to  have," 
she  choked,  "if — if  it  isn't  too  late." 

"It's  never  too  late." 

"But  you  don't  know  what  I  mean." 

"No.    Not  yet " 

"I  mean — your  love.    You  said — I'd  killed  it." 

Garth  took  one  step  from  the  middle  of  the  little 
sitting-room  to  the  sofa,  and  sat  down  beside  the  girl. 
He  crowded  her  as  Severance  had  done  that  afternoon, 
but  she  didn't  move  an  inch. 

"I  didn't  say  that !"  He  spoke  the  words  in  her  hair 
— that  silky  hair  which  had  seemed  too  divine  to  touch. 
"I  asked  you  how  much  you  thought  it  took  to  kill 
love.  But  nothing  could  kill  mine  for  you.  Nothing 
on  earth  or  in  hell.    And  I  have  been  in  hell,  Marise." 

"Come  to  heaven  with  me,  then,"  she  whispered,  and 
clasped  his  neck  with  both  her  young  arms.  Her  cheek, 
wet  with  tears,  was  pressed  against  his. 

"You — mean  it  ?"  he  stammered. 

"Yes — yes.  I  love  you !  Because — you're  so  queer, 
you  made  me,  somehow.  I  know  now  I  never  really 
loved  anyone  but  you.    And  I  never  will  if — you  care!" 

"Care?  I'm  in  heaven  already."  He  framed  her 
face  in  his  hands  and  kissed  her  on  the  lips,  a  long,  long 
kiss  that  made  up  for  everything. 

"In  heaven?"  she  murmured.  "So  am  I.  But  it 
will  be  better  at  Vision  House.  Dear  Vision  House. 
Dear  home!9' 

Garth  sprang  up,  bringing  her  with  him,  his  arm 
round  her  waist. 

"Let's  go  now !"  he  said. 

THE   END 


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